


After the Wreckage

by atetheredmind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Codependency, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, F/M, Gun Violence, Incest, Modern Westeros, Past Drug Addiction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and i mean heavy on the angst, but don't worry it gets resolved eventually, but the ending is hopeful? i think, like a lot, modern-day incest, still a little ambiguous i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: One horrific night changes Jon and Dany's lives forever. Afterwards, as they try to make sense of the tragedy together, they become increasingly reliant on each other. But that's what family is for. Right?Sometimes, something unexpected can come after the wreckage.





	After the Wreckage

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals with some heavy content, namely the topic of family annihilators. There is also an attempted sexual assault (I don't go into too much detail with it) and graphic violence early on, but the majority of this fic deals with the trauma/PTSD that follows while Jon and Dany grow closer. They are related in this fic, so there is modern-day incest here. If any of that squicks you out, this might not be the fic for you. It's a pretty fucked-up premise, and frankly, that's what I was going for.
> 
> I got this idea around Halloween time, initially, when I was trying to think up something creepy to write. I was inspired when I went to a live showing of My Favorite Murder and heard the story of a man who killed his whole family. Is it fucked up that I was inspired by this true-crime story? Probably. But this is Game of Thrones we're talking about, and I think Aerys is crazy enough to do something like this.
> 
> Special thanks to aliciutza who made the wonderful moodboard and also read over this fic to help assure me I hadn't gone, like, completely off the rails here. You're the best babygirl!
> 
> Just a note: Viserys does not exist in this story, neither does Aegon nor Rhaenys (Rhaegar's children with Elia). Rhaegar is Dany's only brother. The Starks are a no-show as well, other than Lyanna, of course. Also, this is a hella long story, sorry.

* * *

He wasn’t even supposed to be home that night.

Not that Jon really considered it _home_. It was just where he resided for the time being. He didn’t have somewhere of his own to call home, somewhere he could always return. His father was dead, and his mother was a struggling drug addict who’d been in and out of rehab since Jon had turned 18. She was now on her fourth attempt to get clean.

The first time had been the week after he’d left for college, and had occurred like clockwork every year since then. Before now, her in-patient stints and subsequent relapses hadn’t thrown his life entirely out of orbit, but this latest attempt, he’d been due to graduate, and with her in rehab, he hadn’t had anywhere to go once he left the dorm. His mother’s family had cast her out decades ago, after she’d gotten knocked up by a married man at the tender age of 17 and run off with him. His father’s family had been a bit more accepting about the whole ordeal. Maybe because it’d been their golden child who’d cheated on his wife with a younger woman. Who were they to stand in the way of true love? It was nothing a divorce couldn’t resolve in the end, anyway.

Even so, Jon didn’t know his father’s side of the family well. Growing up, he would see his relatives maybe once or twice a year, but then Rhaegar had died in a bar fight when Jon had been only 11 years old, and that had been the last he’d seen of the Targaryens for a while. Lyanna had been devastated by Rhaegar’s death, and her grief had made her easy prey to the seductive clutch of prescription drugs. During his teen years, he and his mother had lived as de facto nomads, moving from town to town across the great North, wherever she could find her next fix and a boyfriend willing to provide it.

Still, Jon had done well enough in high school to get accepted to a good university. Harrenhal was a prestigious school located in the Riverlands, about as far south as he was willing to go in case his mother needed him. He’d made friends easily enough while there, so even though he was on his own for the first time, he hadn’t felt alone.

It was during his second year at Harrenhal when Dany friended him on Facebook. Dany was his father’s sister, but she was actually a few months younger than Jon. She went to the Eyrie, a rival school only a few hours away by train, but they had similar interests, similar majors (he was poli-sci, and she was double-majoring in sociology and linguistics). They’d talked occasionally through their remaining years in school, usually just by way of drunken Instragam comments and tweets. It was weird being so close in age to his aunt; when they’d been younger, he used to think she was his cousin. He had vague memories of her from when they were children, of a shy, tiny little thing with strange purple eyes and hair so blonde it was almost silver-white.

At 22, however, she was no longer that awkward child of his memories. Others take him for even _thinking_ it, but these days, his aunt was painfully beautiful. And he knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed; on every single selfie she posted, Jon would scroll through endless comments from guys shamelessly trying to hit her up.

One night, after he’d made an offhand joke to her about his impending homelessness, Dany graciously invited him to live with her and her parents in King's Landing following graduation, at least until he could find a job and a place of his own. He’d declined at first, feeling weird about the arrangement, but she insisted until he finally agreed. It’d only be for a couple months, tops, he figured. He hated accepting charity, but they were his family, after all, and the urban sprawl of King’s Landing would provide the best opportunity for finding work.

But finding a job in his field was tougher than he’d realized it would be, and a couple months had turned into four with no job offer in sight.

In the meantime, he waited tables at a bar, the Dragonpit. He worked nights mostly, not returning to the Targaryen household until well after everyone else was already asleep.

He kept to himself, often sleeping till late afternoon when he’d wake up to go for a run or play some games on his computer until it was time to go to work. Thanks to Aerys’ connections, Dany had landed a 9-to-5 job working the front desk at a pediatric dentist’s office until she could find something more in line with the kind of work she wanted to do. His grandparents were retired, but they had enough social obligations to keep them busy during the day when Jon was usually at the house.

As it was, Jon barely saw them. He wouldn’t have minded hanging out with Dany, especially since, other than his coworkers, she was the only person his age he knew in this city, but, if he was being honest, his grandparents weirded him out. Rhaella was nice but often took to her bed early, complaining of migraines, and Aerys was short with words, and even shorter with his temper. Sometimes in the mornings, Jon could hear him berating his wife or daughter through the walls, and he would pull the pillow over his head and feign sleep until it ceased. The few times he’d talked with his grandfather, the older man had been distant and cold, as if he were lost in his thoughts, a tumbler of whisky in hand that was never empty for long.

Even then, Jon never would have guessed what his grandfather was capable of.

* * *

It was a Wednesday night; Jon had been scheduled for another late shift, but his coworker, Tormund, had texted him around 5 to ask if could trade shifts with him because he had a “hot date with a tall blonde.” For Jon, it meant he’d get to work on a Friday instead—which promised more tips—so he readily agreed. Then he locked the door to the guest room he was staying in, took a couple hits from his vape pen, put in his earbuds, and promptly fell asleep to alt-J blaring in his ears.

He awoke abruptly, his heart pounding in his chest. Disoriented, he stared at the ceiling for a moment, the street lights scattering shadows across his darkened room. Music still thumped in his ears. 

He’d heard a sound; he was sure of it. Groggily, he pulled his earbuds out and sat up, listening to the sounds of the house. Nothing.

Had it just been the song? He checked his phone. 9:36 p.m.

Jon was about to lay back down when he heard it again. A gunshot. He froze, wide-eyed, his brain still scrambling to put the pieces together, but he knew immediately that had been the sound that had first woken him.

Before he could react, a scream followed. _“Dad! What are you doing?!”_

That jarred him from his paralysis. Scrambling off his bed, Jon stumbled to the door. He jerked uselessly at it before he remembered it was locked, threw it open, and bolted out of his room. From down the hallway, he heard a crash and a heavy thud that shook the floor beneath his bare feet, then a cry of pain. Jon darted down the hallway toward the master bedroom. The door was wide open.

He could see Aerys on top of his daughter, struggling as she kicked at him, pinned beneath his weight on the floor. A nightstand lay toppled beside her, the heavy ceramic lamp and its large shade casting an eerie yellow glow around the room.

In the doorway, Jon pulled up short at the sight of his grandmother’s lifeless body in the bed. A crimson blossom soaked her torso and the bedsheets beneath her.

And her face— _seven hells_. Her eye was a pit of mangled red flesh, her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Oh gods.”

The tearing of fabric jerked him out of his stupor. Jon looked back to Aerys just as he struck Dany across the face with the back of his fist.

All thinking ceased. Pure, mindless instinct took over. Jon barreled into his grandfather from behind, knocking him sideways. “Get off her!” he yelled as he wrestled Aerys to the floor. Aerys managed to free an arm and drove an elbow back into Jon’s chin.

His head snapped back, hitting the metal bedframe of the bed. His vision flickered, briefly. As he reached for his head, Aerys twisted around to punch him twice, once across his jaw then again in his cheek. Mercifully, the punches lacked the force and momentum of his previous blow.

“Dad, _no_! _Stop!_ ” Dany’s shriek went ignored.

Dazed, Jon rolled out of Aerys’ reach before he could land another hit. As he pushed up onto his knees, a deafening crack of thunder splintered the air. A faint twinge of pain pierced his side, and he looked down, confused by the tiny hole in his shirt. When he lifted his gaze, he saw Aerys on his knees, aiming a gun at Jon’s head. His eyes were wild, a bottomless pit of black. Looking into them, Jon felt a cold awareness creep down his spine.

His grandfather was going to kill him.

Then Dany swung the heavy lamp into the side of her father’s head, so hard the ceramic shattered in her hands. His head snapped to the side, then he dropped like a stone, the gun tumbling from his hand. He flopped sideways against the bed, blood trickling from his temple. The wild look in his eyes was gone, snuffed out.

“Holy shit,” Jon gasped, then cried out in surprise as his entire right side lit up with pain. Red-faced and wet-cheeked, Dany scrambled on her knees to him, reaching for him, but he fell backward on his haunches, clutching his side. His shirt was damp with a warm, sticky wetness. He didn’t need to pull his hand away to know it was blood.

“Jon,” she croaked, clumsily mimicking his movements in an attempt to staunch the blood flow. But her hands shook too badly, pressing his fingers into his weeping wound and making spots dance in front of his eyes. He gritted his teeth against another cry of pain, not wanting to scare her.

“Dany.” His breathing was coming faster, shallower. Her pale face swam before him. Her t-shirt was ripped open from collar to navel, but she didn’t seem to notice. Embarrassed in spite of the direness of the situation, he closed his eyes against the sight of her breasts, wanting to afford her some modesty.

“Call—” He was cold, clammy. Hot, too. How was that possible? He needed to lie down. “Call…” Call who? What were they supposed to do in this situation? Why couldn’t he remember? He swayed, and Dany grabbed his shoulders, trying to help him lie back. Jon grunted, wheezing, fire licking outward from the hole in his side.

“Jon,” she whimpered. His eyelids fluttered, and he slumped backward in her grip until he felt the comforting press of carpet at his back. “My phone—it’s, it’s in my room. I have to go, I have to get it. I’ll be right back. I swear. I’ll be back. You’re not—you’re not going to die, okay?”

 _Die._ The word alarmed him. _Who said anything about dying?_ he wanted to ask, but all he could manage was a nod, then she was gone. His vision dimmed, blood rushing in his ears. Footsteps pounding, fading, gone.

She was at his side again, hands touching his face, his neck, his stomach. She was yelling something, at someone, but it was like he was hearing her underwater.

He didn’t remember anything else after that.

* * *

His eyes were heavy, too heavy to open, yet his body felt light, like he was floating above himself. Weird. Maybe he’d fallen asleep after vaping too much weed again.

He rolled his head around until, finally, he was able to peel his eyes open. The fluorescent lighting overhead stung, and he blinked away the grit and tears, squinting, turning his head away from the light. Once the spots disappeared from his vision, a person took shape before him.

Dany.

She sat curled up in a chair, her knees hugged against her chest, her head craned at an awkward angle as she slept.

He looked at his surroundings again. The hums and beeps of machines helped ground him. He was in a hospital room. Considering how often he used to find his mom unresponsive in a puddle of her own vomit and had to call an ambulance, this was a familiar setting for him.

Oddly enough, the panic felt too far away, just out of reach. That was probably a good thing. Jon dry-swallowed a couple times. His mouth felt like it’d been packed with cotton. When he spoke, his voice was sandpaper-hoarse and came out barely above a whisper.

“That can’t be comfortable.”

Amazingly, Dany startled awake in a heartbeat, her bleary-eyed gaze finding him. She let out a breath and dropped her feet to the floor, leaning toward him. “Jon. Oh, _thank the gods._ ”

He stared at her, horrified. Her cheek was bruised a sickly shade of aubergine, the skin around her swollen eye black and blue. “What happened?” he asked, tongue thick and useless, but already it was coming back to him, the grisly memories surfacing in the muddiness of his drug-addled mind.

Her eyes watered, and she looked away, gingerly wiping at her face, first her good eye then, with infinite more care, her bruised eye. “You were shot. Do you remember?”

He nodded slowly.

“My…” She stopped to chew on her lip and shook her head. She looked so frail and lost. “My dad...shot you. He shot my mom. I was...I was in my room, reading a book before bed, when I heard the first gunshot. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a gunshot before, not in person.” Her face scrunched in disbelief. “I didn’t understand. I got up and went to my parents’ room, and he was just—standing over her. I saw him shoot her again. And I screamed, and I ran at him, but he shoved me into the nightstand. Then he…”

She looked sick. Jon _felt_ sick, remembering. The memories of that night assaulted him relentlessly now. He couldn’t _stop_ seeing it. It didn’t make any sense—what he saw Aerys doing to his own daughter—what he probably would have done if Jon hadn’t stopped him.

“Dany,” he said, helpless.

Her throat convulsed, but she forced the rest out. “You stopped him, and he shot you. He was going to kill you too, so...I hit him. With the lamp.” She pressed her hand to her mouth, and her next words were muffled, a rush to purge herself of her sins. “I killed him. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to stop him. He’s dead. They’re both dead. I thought you were going to die, too.” Her shoulders jerked with a silent sob. “I’m sorry, Jon. I’m so sorry.”

He reached for her hand, managing to grab it after a few missed swipes. “S’not your fault. Please. Don’t.” He didn’t know what to say. His brain was too muddled, but the pain on her face was killing him. Her tears slipped down her cheeks, and she laid her head on the edge of his hospital bed as she wept quietly. She didn’t let go of his hand.

* * *

He was laid up in the hospital for a week while he recovered from the emergency surgery on his gunshot wound. Miraculously, no organ or artery had been nicked, and he’d only needed sutures to seal it up. All things considered, it was a rather clean shot, and they’d been able to extract all the bullet fragments, the doctor told him once he was fully conscious.

Dany stayed with him the entire time he was in the hospital. He begged her to leave and get some rest—but, understandably, she wasn’t ready to go back to the place where her father had murdered her mother. The neighborhood was still crawling with news media. He didn’t blame her for wanting to avoid them, wait for the morbid interest to dwindle.

Eventually, she agreed to get a room at a nearby inn where she could shower and change as needed, but otherwise she was parked in the chair or the sleeper sofa in his room. She told him her great-aunt Dyanna had flown up from Dorne to take care of everything, including the cleanup and the funeral services. Aerys was quietly cremated and promptly disposed of in an undisclosed location. Similarly, Rhaella was cremated as well, but there would be a small memorial service for her at a later time.

“I called the bar to let them know what happened and why you wouldn’t be in for a while. I mean, it was already on the news, anyway,” Dany had told him at one point. “I haven’t told your mom what happened. I didn’t know how to get ahold of her. Or if you’d want me to. I’m sorry.”

Thinking about his mother right then was too difficult; he was almost glad the drugs they had him on dulled everything. “That’s okay. I don’t want to mess with her recovery. I’ll tell her myself. Soon.”

While Jon had been in surgery, Dany had spoken to a couple of officers from the Kingsguard, the elite force that patrolled and protected King’s Landing. After his anesthesia had completely worn off, they came by to get his statement as well, one of the few times Dany actually left his room. To the Kingsguard, it was an open-and-shut-case: Jon’s story corroborated Dany’s. They both had defensive wounds. Gunshot residue was all over Aerys’ hands. He was dead. Dany had killed her father in self-defense, after he had killed his wife. Other than offering their condolences, there was nothing else the Kingsguard could or needed to do.

After a week in recovery, Jon’s doctor discharged him with a full course of antibiotics, painkillers, and the instructions to return in two weeks to have the sutures removed. A nurse pushed his wheelchair out front and promptly deposited him on a bench to wait for Dany, who’d gone to pull up her car. While he waited, Jon watched people come and go, some looking distraught or frazzled. He wondered how many were on their way to see loved ones for possibly the last time. He took a deep breath, wincing at the discomfort in his side as his diaphragm contracted. It was strange how differently fresh air smelled after a week of that distinctly hospital odor, of antiseptics and sick.

After a few minutes, Dany’s white Toyota sedan jerked to a stop in front of him, and she came around to help him into the passenger seat. She gripped his arm firmly, holding his weight on her shoulder as if he would collapse otherwise.

“I can walk,” he said, despite the pain in his side. “The wheelchair’s just a formality.”

“I know. Just...get in the car,” she said, not letting go of his arm until he was seated. Then she carefully shut the door and circled the front of the car to climb into the driver’s seat. Jon reclined his head and closed his eyes, but after a moment of silence, he looked to Dany again. She sat hunched at the wheel, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as she stared ahead, unblinking.

“You okay?” he asked kindly. Not surprising, but she looked like hell. Like she hadn’t slept in a week. And after watching her toss and turn on the sleeper sofa every night, he knew she hadn’t. Her greasy, unwashed hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she wore an old, paint-stained sweatshirt with one sleeve haphazardly pushed up to her elbow. But what tugged at his heart were the dark circles under her eyes, only made worse by how pale she looked. The bruise on her face had faded to an ugly yellow-brown smear along her cheekbone, the swelling in her eye finally gone.

Her throat constricted with a swallow. “I don’t know where to take you. I don’t know if I can go back to that house yet.”

“We don’t have to,” he said. Truthfully, he didn’t know if he was ready to return either. It wasn’t logical; he knew the house was safe now, but, still, the thought of it sent a trickle of icy fear into his stomach. He tried to ignore it.

“But I have to do it eventually, don’t I?” She looked at him. He shrugged uselessly. He didn’t know what the hell you were supposed to do when your father killed your mother.

“We can do whatever you want, Dany.”

She sucked in an unsteady breath then blew it out. “You need your stuff, at least.”

He closed his eyes again, suddenly feeling nauseous. He would have to take a painkiller soon, the pain in his side starting to radiate farther out. Fuck, he really didn’t want to have to use them. With his mother’s history of addiction, and to opiates no less, he was a little worried for himself.

Maybe weed would be enough to dull the pain.

Dany turned her head back to the windshield, her jaw set in a resigned grimace. “I should just...go. Get it over with.”

Opening his eyes, he nodded solemnly. “I’ll be with you.”

She looked to him again, her expression grateful. It quickly turned into one of determination. “I’m going to take care of you.”

He hedged. “I’ll be fine—”

“The doctor said it would take weeks, even months, for your wound to heal completely,” she talked over him. Pleading crept into her voice. “It’s the least I can do. Okay?”

He could tell she was desperate for it, for something to do, to keep her preoccupied, most likely. She probably felt responsible for him, too. Obligated. They were family, after all. In some ways, the only family the other had right now.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he agreed. “Okay.”

* * *

Going up the stairs was the most difficult part, by far. Jon had to hoist himself up by the railing just to get to the second floor, paranoid of ripping his sutures out. It wouldn’t do now to fall, not after he’d already reassured Dany he could walk up the stairs by himself. He wouldn’t have minded the help, truthfully, but he could tell by how white she’d gone, staring up at the top of the stairs, that she wasn’t ready to breach the second floor yet. Instead, she went to set up an air mattress for herself in the downstairs study.

One step at a time.

Once he reached the top stair, he stopped and stared down the length of the hallway. At the end, the master bedroom was closed off, thank the gods. Dany said her great-aunt had hired a company to clean everything up, but she hadn’t yet been in the bedroom to check for herself. Jon could picture it so vividly in his head—Rhaella on the bed, covered in blood. Her face— _fucking hell_ —

His stomach churned, and he looked away. Gave himself a moment to catch his breath, then shuffled to his bedroom. Apparently, Dyanna had even cleaned up his room. None of his clothes or shoes were scattered around the floor or strewn over his desk chair. His bed had been neatly made. His phone, which he had abandoned on the bed as soon as he’d heard that second gunshot, had been placed on the nightstand, the earbuds wrapped around it. His vape pen was neatly lined beside it.

When he checked his phone, he saw that it was dead. Of course. He hadn’t had access to it for a week. He didn’t even want to know how many missed texts he had. Bending down, slowly, he found the charger and plugged it in. Underneath his vape pen, he noticed a torn-off square of paper. Jon pulled it out from under his pen to read it.

_This stuff will kill you!_

He let out a droll snort. Apparently, Dyanna was not a proponent of recreational marijuana. He wondered how she felt about guns.

Tossing the note back on the nightstand, he unscrewed the base of his vape pen and plugged it into the wall adapter to charge as well, then stretched out on his bed. Just the effort of going up the stairs had drained him. Jon gritted his teeth against the dull ache in his side, determined to wait it out as long as he could. His pills were all the way downstairs, and he didn’t think the pain was bad enough that he needed them just yet.

Later, he’d take them. If the pain got to be unbearable. For the time being, he just stared at the ceiling, unable to close his eyes, trying, and failing, not to replay that horrific night in his mind.

* * *

His room was above the back deck, so when the back door opened in the middle of the night, he heard it. Jon reached out to grab his phone and checked the time. Quarter after one. Carefully, he rolled out of his bed, holding his right side, and crept to the window. He lifted the blinds to peer outside and saw the top of Dany’s head as she curled up on a patio chair, her hair wreathed in moonlight.

Jon watched for a moment as she hugged her knees to her chest, unsure if he should go after her, or if she’d prefer to be alone. He stepped back from the window.

The hell with it. It wasn’t like he was sleeping, either.

Jon grabbed the vape pen from his nightstand, then, on second thought, snatched up the warning note left with it and headed downstairs, leaning heavily on the railing. At the back door, he opened it gently, so as not to startle her. She didn’t turn to look at him until he sat down in the chair next to her. He held out his vape pen in offering.

She frowned in confusion. “You vape?”

“Weed oil,” he clarified. “Can’t sleep. Thought you might want a hit. Or five.”

Her mouth flickered in a brief, dead-eyed smile as she reached out to take it from him. After she took a hit, he took the pen from her and did the same. She didn’t cough as she held it in her lungs and slowly exhaled it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the crumpled up note from her great-aunt and handed it to her.

Curiously, Dany unfolded it, another frown creasing her forehead. He explained before she could ask. “Dyanna left it with my vape pen.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry she went through your stuff. I really appreciate everything she’s done since…” She shook her head. “But she’s always been kind of uptight. A stickler for the rules.”

Jon crooked a tired grin at her. “I don’t mind. I just thought you’d appreciate the irony of it.”

It took her a second to get it, then her eyes brightened with understanding, and she laughed quietly, reluctantly. She scrunched her nose. “I shouldn’t laugh at that.”

He chuckled and immediately grimaced. “I shouldn’t laugh, period.” He gingerly laid a hand on his side, feeling the edge of the bandage on his side. It was the wrong thing to say, he realized the second her eyes flooded with anguish and remorse. In wordless understanding, Jon passed her the vape pen again. She took it without question, and they repeated the cycle.

After a moment of quiet, Dany wrapped her arms around her legs again and leaned her cheek on her knee. He could see tears clinging to her lashes. “I’m so tired, but every time I close my eyes, I just see her…and him…”

Jon swallowed, trying to not let her words conjure the memory yet again. He thought about it too, but truthfully, the moment that kept replaying in his head was when he found Aerys on top of Dany. What if he hadn’t been at the house that night? What if nobody had been able to stop Aerys? Jon fought a physical shudder. He couldn’t tell her that, he knew.

“Yeah,” was all he said, leaning his head back to stare up at the night sky.

“I miss her so much. And I hate him for taking her from me. But, gods. I miss him too. How fucked up is that? After what he did. I don’t understand or know what I should be feeling. I’m so confused. Everything is messed up in my head.” She turned her face into her knees. “He would have killed me, too. If I hadn’t walked into the room. If I’d been asleep. He would have come for me next. ‘Family annihilator.’ That’s what the Kingsguard called him. They had a name for it. Like this is normal. Like they see this all the time. But I just don’t know who that man was that night. That wasn’t the person I knew. Or thought I knew. How could I have not seen it?”

On impulse, Jon reached out a hand. He didn’t know where to touch her, so awkwardly he let his hand come to rest on her bare ankle. Even that felt too intimate, too familiar, but he gave her a comforting squeeze. “They were your parents. That was your father. There’s no playbook for this kind of shit. Don’t beat yourself up,” he murmured.

Her sniffles were amplified by the cave created by her knees, and she nodded. Her hand lowered to his, and she squeezed his fingers in return. She didn’t let him go, so he left his hand there, absently stroking her ankle bone with his thumb before he realized what he was doing and stopped. Instead, he hit his vape pen and sat in silence with her, watching the distant lights of a plane track across the black sky.

The pain in his side eased, only barely, but enough, at least. Eventually, Dany untangled her hand from his and stood with a sigh.

“I think I might be able to sleep now. I should try, at least. Thanks.” She stood in front of him for a moment, staring down at him. He blinked his eyes languidly, feeling too relaxed in his chair to do or say anything. Her hand briefly touched his hair before she pulled it back.

“Don’t be a hero,” she whispered, her wry smile not reaching her eyes. “Take the painkillers. I’ll keep an eye on you. I promise.”

His throat was dry when he swallowed, but he nodded his acquiescence, then she was gone.

* * *

Jon was pulled from a restless sleep by a faint scream. His heart was already in his throat, throbbing as he struggled to catch his breath, to claw away the vestiges of his unsettling dream.

 _Not again_ , he thought, his body paralyzed with fear. Then, _Dany_.

He shot up in his bed and let out a hiss as the sudden movement pulled at his wound. But he shoved the pain aside and dragged himself out of bed to the door, throwing it open. The house was silent, eerily dark. He started for her bedroom before he remembered, then changed course and headed for the steps. He held his side as he slipped and slid down the carpeted stairs, gripping the railing so he wouldn’t fall.

In the study he found her sitting upright on the air mattress, huddled in the middle. He couldn’t see her face, which she’d tucked against her knees, her shoulders shaking.

“Dany,” he croaked out as he carefully shuffled closer. She jerked her head up at the sound of his voice. Even in the dark he could see the whites of her eyes, wide with terror. But when she saw it was him, her shoulders slumped. His own heartbeat was finally subsiding, though he felt winded from his scramble to get downstairs.

“Jon,” she whispered. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

He waved her off, debating if he should sit on her bed. The thought of lowering himself that far to sit on something as shaky as an air mattress made him think twice. Instead, he lowered himself into a nearby chair. “Are you okay?”

She dragged a hand down her face. “Just a bad dream. I’m sorry for waking you. I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Do you have them often?”

“Almost every night,” she admitted. “Usually, I wake up feeling like I can’t move or breathe.”

He nodded. “That’s normal. At least, that’s what the doctor warned me to expect. My dreams have been pretty fucked up, too.”

Her oversized sleep shirt slipped off her shoulder, and she pulled the blanket around her tighter. “Do you dream about it, too? That night, I mean.” Her voice sounded small, hoarse, roughened with sleep. Or from screaming.

“Sometimes,” he said, a little embarrassed. He hesitated a moment before elaborating. “Sometimes, it’s different. Not...him, exactly. I’ll be at the restaurant closing up, and someone will come in. Dressed all in black with a hood pulled over his face so I can’t make him out. Or I’ll be back in class, or at a friend’s house. But it’s always the same. A man in black shows up and shoots me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. He didn’t tell her sometimes in these dreams, she was with him, and the man in black would aim for her before Jon shoved her out of the way. He didn’t want to make her feel worse.

“It was a traumatic experience. Nightmares happen. Eventually, they go away.” He hoped.

“Oh.” She sat up straighter, her mouth sinking even further into a frown. “I forgot. You’ve already dealt with this, in a way. I mean. Your father dying. Not that he—” She winced. “Obviously, it’s not the same.”

His mouth pulled into a grimace. “No, nothing like this. But. Hearing about how he died. Yeah. I had nightmares for a while. And I was just a kid then.” His mind drifted, thinking about his father's death: one knock-out punch to the head after he’d confronted a drunk man getting handsy with Lyanna. If he hadn’t hit the corner of the bar as he went down, he would have been fine. He might have walked away with just a black eye. But life was unfair that way.

Shaking away the memory, he said, “I should have talked to someone about it. A therapist, someone who could have helped me process my grief better. You might want to think about doing that.”

Dany simply nodded, gaze fixed on a spot on her blanket. After a moment, she shifted on the mattress to face him fully. Her skin was pale in the dim moonlight filtering through the blinds of the window at her back. “Do you miss him? Your dad?”

Jon raked a hand through his hair and started to lean forward before the motion reminded him of his wound. Dany had taken him back to the hospital the day before to have the sutures removed, so he was especially mindful of it now. He sat back in the chair, realizing for the first time he was shirtless, the dressing on his side stark-white even in the darkness. At least he’d fallen asleep in shorts and hadn’t come running down in just his boxer-briefs.

He blew out a breath. “Yeah. I guess. It’s been almost ten years now. That kind of ache gradually goes away after a while. It only feels tender if I deliberately press on it, you know?” He played with the hem of his shorts leg. “I just think if he was still here, things would be different for my mom. For both of us, but especially her.”

Dany stared at him, her eyes soft. “I don’t remember much about him. He was so much older than me by the time I was born, he didn’t really exist in my orbit growing up, not as a sibling or someone I could play with. I think he often got stuck babysitting me when I was a kid. Before I could really remember much.”

Jon huffed out a laugh. “That’s right. Sometimes I forget he was your brother.”

She smiled, laying her cheek on her knee. “I do, too, honestly. I kind of thought of him as a second dad, I guess.”

“He was a good father,” Jon murmured, then covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. Dany blinked and lifted her head.

“You should go back to bed. I’m okay. Thank you for checking on me.”

She wasn’t okay, he knew—how the hell could she be? But he didn’t want to push her, so he nodded. “I’m just upstairs if you need anything,” he told her and stood, carefully, holding his side. Dany’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no, your side. I’m such an asshole.” She threw off the blanket and scooted off the air mattress, shooting to her feet to grab his arm.

“I’m fine,” he told her, going still when he noticed she wore only the shirt, leaving her legs bare. But he shook it off, his face hot with the embarrassment of his realization—or that the realization bothered him so much. She was pantsless, and he was shirtless, and they were family. It was fine.

The awkwardness was gone immediately, however, when he saw fresh tears fill her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You came down here to help me, but you have your own problems.”

He swallowed. “Dany.” She shook her head as if it to object to whatever he had to say, so he did the only thing that felt right. He pulled her into a hug. She pressed her face into his chest and wrapped her arms around him, mindful of his wound. He squeezed her tight, wishing he could relieve her of the guilt and sadness. Her breaths were hot and wet on his bare skin as she snuffled quietly, swallowing her tears. Cautiously, he rested his chin on her head. “I could set up camp on the couch. I’d be closer that way,” he offered.

With a shake of her head, she pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “I’m okay. Thanks. I don’t want to put you out. If you hear me in the future, you can just assume it’s a nightmare. Don’t worry about me.” He would worry, and he’d come the next time, and every time, regardless, but he just shrugged. She was impossible to argue with.

Dany took his arm again to steer him out of the office. “Let me help you upstairs.”

“I’m fine,” he said again, then rolled his eyes at himself. “Maybe we keep taking turns saying that and it’ll be true one of these days.”

She let out a wet laugh and reluctantly released his arm. “Maybe.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before now.”

Jon pressed the phone to his ear and dropped his forehead into his hand. “I didn’t want to worry you, Mom.”

“Worry me?! Jon, you were _shot_! That’s something to worry about!” she shouted. He winced.

“It was a pretty clean shot, really. The doctors said I was very lucky. There was very little damage,” he said, speaking as calmly as he could. “Besides, how was I supposed to tell you? They don’t allow cell phones in that center, and I have to wait till you’re allowed a phone call.”

He heard her exasperated sigh over the other end. “I’m sure if you’d just called the front desk to ask to speak to me, they would have made an exception for _my son being_ _shot_!” She made a choked sound, and he closed his eyes, swallowing against his own tears.

“I’m fine,” he said, hating himself for the hollow refrain. “It’s healing well. I didn’t want to set you back in your recovery by burdening you with this.”

She started crying in earnest then, and he dug his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. Immediately, he knew he’d misstepped. “I’m sorry, Jon. It’s my fault. I’m such a fuck-up, and I can’t even be the kind of mother you need right now. My son gets shot, and I’m not there.”

“Mom,” he began, but she was crying too hard to hear him. He repeated it a few times, then decided to wait for her to calm down. From the other side of the kitchen, he heard the door to the garage open but didn’t look up. He knew it was Dany—who else would it be now?—knew the sound of her quiet footsteps as she walked through the kitchen.

“Mom,” he tried again once her crying had quieted. He saw Dany’s sandals come into his line of sight, and he lifted his head finally. She stopped by the counter next to him and watched him in concern but didn’t say anything. Jon averted his eyes. “Listen to me. Please? You’re not a fuck-up. This is not your fault. You have a disease. If you really want to help me, just get better. That’s all I want. Okay?”

Lyanna blew her nose on the other end. “I know. I’m trying. I feel more clear-headed than I have in a while. I feel really good about this time, Jon.”

He wasn’t so sure, but he chose to believe her. “I’m glad, Mom.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come out there to you? I don’t like thinking of you all by yourself right now.”

“I’m not.” Jon cleared his throat, still not meeting Dany’s eyes. “I’m staying with Dany.”

“What?” Lyanna sounded shocked. “You’re staying with her? You’re not both still at that house, are you? Jon, tell me you’re not.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re helping each other out. You don’t have to worry about us. We’re getting by.”

“ _Jon_ ,” she exclaimed. “I—I’m sure Dany’s a nice person. From what I remember she’s a sweet girl, but—that family—you don’t want to get tangled up with them, believe me—”

 _Too late, Mom_ , he thought wryly. _You married into them._

“Mom, I love you. Call me again when you can. Let me know when you’re released. I’ll come up and visit you.”

She sighed, sounding older than her 40 years. “I love you too, Jon. So much. I don’t know what I would do without my baby.”

When he disconnected, Jon rubbed at his beard before he looked to Dany again. She frowned. “How is she?” she asked.

“She sounds better than I’ve heard her in a while. Just...upset about what happened.”

“That’s understandable,” Dany said, studying him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged uncomfortably, forcing a smile. “Just wish things could be easy, I guess.” She nodded in understanding, and he turned his attention to the stack of mail in her hands. “What’s that?”

She sighed, flipping through them. “I’ve got a bunch of condolences cards to go through. I’ve been letting them pile up.”

“Want me to help?”

Gratefully, she separated the stack in two and handed half to him. “Thank you.”

They went through their respective piles in silence, tearing open envelopes and reading the messages inside then setting them aside. When Jon would come across a card with a particularly personal note, he would pass it to Dany to read. Most of them were simple and impersonal, however, just a carefully scribbled, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Jon imagined it was hard figuring out how to address such a messy situation with anything more heartfelt than that.

After a few moments, Jon noticed Dany’s distress growing with every card, her eyes turning misty and red. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we should finish this later,” he suggested, but she shook her head.

“I spoke to my great-aunt earlier. My mom’s birthday is coming up soon, and she wants to have her memorial service then,” she spoke quietly, not looking at him. “Something small. She’s already made plans to fly back in a couple weeks and sent out invites to friends and family. So I might as well get this done with now.”

Jon braced his elbows on the counter and rubbed his face. Two weeks. Fuck.

Wiping at her cheeks, Dany returned to flipping through her stack and stopped. “Oh. This must have gotten mixed in with the all the cards.” She pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. “This is for you.”

Jon looked at the return address with apprehension. Baelor Memorial Hospital. Ripping open the envelope, he unfolded the sheets of paper, read the balance due and cringed. 784 silver stags.

“Is it bad?” Dany asked.

“No. I mean, I can cover it,” he replied. Except he hadn’t been able to work since the incident, and his bank account was dwindling dangerously low. It would take him a few shifts to save up enough to pay the debt off, but it was doable.

Slipping the bill from his hands, Dany read over the numbers then shrugged as she set it aside. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay it.”

“What? No—”

“Jon, it’s not a big deal,” she spoke quietly, her face somber. “I’ve been to the lawyers. I have...a lot of money coming my way, more than I know what to do with. It’s the least I can do to repay you for what you did for me.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said harshly, inexplicably agitated, but she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing.

“No, but you helped me. And now I want to help you. It’s only fitting.” As he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off with a look. “What did I say? Don’t be a hero. Just accept my help, as little as it is. Okay?”

He hated taking her money. He already hated living off her the way he was. But she looked so earnest. He couldn’t say no.

Blowing out a breath, he dipped his chin in acceptance. “Okay. Thank you, Dany.”

* * *

The room was stifling. Jon tugged at his collar, loosened his tie. His hair was tied back, and he’d already removed his suit jacket; still, he could feel the beads of sweat on his scalp, under his arms. He’d shaken more hands than he could count, his robotic refrain of “Thank you for coming” making his tongue feel thick and dry. The faces were a blur at this point. Not that he recognized anyone, save for a couple neighbors he’d seen in passing in his time in King’s Landing. And Dyanna, of course.

If it was this awful for him, he couldn’t imagine how Dany was coping. He craned his neck to look for her, but he didn’t spot her among the guests that filled the funeral parlor, noshing on the circulating hors d'oeuvres Dyanna had had catered, murmuring in hushed tones. Scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces, he stopped short when he locked gazes with a pair of shrewd brown eyes. A young woman, somewhere around his age, was watching him closely. She was pretty, with wavy brown hair, a heart-shaped face and rosebud lips, but the way she looked at him made him uncomfortable. Like she was sizing him up. Like she wanted to eat him.

Having his attention, she nodded and started toward him. Jon braced himself for more awkward small talk, forcing a smile when she did. When she reached him, her hand came out to shake his. “Jon, right?” He nodded as he shook her hand. “I’m Margaery Tyrell. I live down the street from Dany,” she said at his blank look.

“Oh, right.” He still had no idea. He withdrew his hand from hers, shoving both in his pockets. His eyes did another surreptitious sweep of the room for Dany, but he found her nowhere, not even with her friends Missandei and Grey Worm he'd met earlier. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Margaery continued. “They were your grandparents, weren’t they?”

“Ah. Yeah. Thank you.”

She moved closer, dropping her voice. “That must have been quite terrifying. I heard you were...there, when it happened.”

Jon felt his palms grow damp in his pockets, and he swallowed. “I was.”

“Dany, too,” she murmured, touching his arm. “How awful.”

Jon coughed, covering his mouth so he could break the contact of her hand on him. “Are you friends with Dany?”

“We’re friendly,” Margaery said with a sheepish smile. “I moved in to my grandmother’s house a couple years ago to help take care of her. Dany was away at university then, but my grandmother, Olenna, knew the Targaryens well. Then again, she knows everyone well. She makes it her business to.”

For some reason, Jon sensed that was a trait Margaery had inherited from her grandmother as well. “Is she here tonight?” he asked for lack of a better response.

“Sadly, no. She had a stroke a few months ago and is still not fully recovered, but she sends her heartfelt condolences.” Margaery smiled at him again. “I wanted to deliver them on her behalf.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “And tell Olenna thank you as well. It means a lot. To us. To Dany, especially.”

“I haven’t seen her in a while. Is she all right?”

 _What do you think?_ he wanted to ask but bit his tongue. Instead, he shrugged. “Might’ve needed fresh air.”

“Of course,” she said sympathetically. “I wanted to speak to her, offer a shoulder, or an ear. For either of you.” She smiled then. “Maybe we can get drinks sometime. Shoot the shit, whatever.”

“The three of us?” Jon asked. Her smile widened.

“Or you and me, if she’s not up for it.”

He stared at her, unsure how to respond. What did one say to being picked up at a funeral? He stretched his mouth in some imitation of her smile. “Sure. Let me go see if I can find Dany now, actually. Excuse me.”

Ducking away from her, Jon blew out a breath as he stalked out of the room, avoiding further eye contact with anyone else. In the hallway, he hesitated, unsure where to look for Dany. After deliberating, he headed for the front doors that lead outside, suddenly itching for a hit from his vape pen.

As he’d predicted, he found Dany out there, alone, arms wrapped around her waist as she stared off into the distance. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her in case she’d been too lost in her thoughts to hear him approach, but at the sound of his voice, she looked at him, unsurprised.

“Hi.” She turned to face him, crossing her high-heeled feet at the ankle. She wore a simple black dress and black cardigan, her pale hair pulled back in a low ponytail. “Sorry to bail on you in there. I just needed a moment.”

Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying, and his heart ached at the sight. He shook his head, slipping his vape pen from his pocket. “You don’t have to explain it to me.” Already, the crawling sensation on his skin was fading, the mild nip in the air cooling the flush in his face. When he held out his vape to her, she smiled thankfully, teary-eyed.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she said as she accepted it from him. They took turns passing the vape pen back and forth, not speaking, until she finally waved him off. Pocketing it, Jon moved to stand beside her, following her gaze out across the parking lot.

“Margaery was looking for you,” he finally remembered. She frowned.

“Who?”

“Tyrell?”

Her face was blank for a moment, before she blinked. “Oh. Olenna’s granddaughter. Right.”

“She wanted to get drinks or something.”

She wrinkled her nose. “With you?”

Jon glanced at her from his periphery. “I guess. Maybe. Both of us, I think.”

Dany’s expression relaxed. “It’s amazing how quickly your social calendar fills up when your father kills your mother—” She snorted suddenly and clapped a hand over her mouth. He froze, but she snorted out another pinched, watery laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that. Coping mechanism.”

He pressed his lips into a smile. “Or the weed.”

“Also likely.” She dropped her hand and sighed. “Is it over yet? I just want to crawl into my bed and sleep for a week.”

Whether she meant the memorial, or the whole ordeal, he wasn’t sure. Jon shrugged and said, “Dyanna said another hour or so when I spoke to her not too long ago.”

Dany looked away, chewing on her lip. “Sorry. I must sound so bratty.”

“Are you kidding?” He huffed out a dry laugh. “If I have to endure one more minute of small talk in there, I’m going to lose my shit.”

She smiled at him, and after a beat, she shook her head. “Seriously. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here, Jon.” Immediately, she winced, covering her eyes. “I mean—of course, you never should’ve had to go through any of this in the first place. I don’t wish that you were there that night just because I was—”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, prying it from her face. “I know what you meant.” She met his gaze again, and he swallowed thickly, cotton-mouthed from the weed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

She squeezed his hand appreciatively. They stood in silence for a moment longer, their clasped hands hanging between them, until Dany let out a quiet sigh. “Okay. I think I’m ready to go back inside.”

As they walked back into the house, he was reluctant to let go of her hand.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Jon returned to the house after his shift at the Dragonpit. His wound had mostly healed, but they’d put him behind the bar anyway to limit his exertion, and they’d cut him before closing. While he appreciated the consideration, he also knew he’d missed out on some good tips by leaving early.

Even so, after only a few hours at work, he was exhausted and bone-tired.

As he stepped up onto the curb, he spotted Dany sitting on the front stoop and slowed to a stop, confused by her presence at this hour. Once he got a good look at her face, however, he shook off his confusion and strode toward her.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

She shook her head, hugging her arms around herself as she stood. “Nothing, I—” Her breathing was shallow and quick, like she couldn’t take a deep enough breath. He realized she was dressed in running shorts, a tanktop, and sneakers. “I was just feeling restless, so I went for a run—”

“By yourself?” he asked incredulously, horrified. “Seven hells. How long have you been sitting out here?”

She pulled a canister out of her pocket and showed it to him. “I used to go for runs all the time. I always bring pepper spray with me. I never have headphones on. It’s _fine_.”

He stared at the can of pepper spray. “Okay,” he said slowly, still disturbed but not sure he could really lecture her on her late-night running habit when it was something he sometimes did, too. Before the shooting, of course; he hadn’t been able to work out since, nothing too strenuous.

Still, the thought of her running by herself—it rankled him. “Then why are you out here?” he asked.

Dany stuffed the canister back into her pocket and brought her arms up, draping them over her head. Her breathing was still labored, but her skin was noticeably free of sweat. “I don’t know. I went for a run and started feeling weird, so I came back, but as I was coming up to the house, I just—” Her chest hitched with a sharp gasp. “I don’t know. I panicked. I couldn’t go inside. I literally couldn’t bring myself to open the door. My whole body seized up. All I could do was sit here.”

She began pacing on the front step, back and forth, before she jerked to a stop. Dragging her hands down her face, she pressed them to her cheeks. “ _Gods_. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t live here. I can’t stay in this house, where my fucking _dad_ murdered my _mom_!” She barked out a hysterical sound, eyes watering. “What is wrong with me? What kind of person does that? People must think I’m absolutely crazy. What kind of monster just goes on with her life like that, as if it hasn’t been completely ripped apart?”

Her voice had climbed higher, echoing down the empty street. Jon reached out and pulled her hands away from her face, then he wrapped her in a hug in an attempt to calm her. “Stop. It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s your home—”

She struggled out of his embrace. “No, it _was_ my home, _and he fucking_ _ruined it!”_ she yelled, twisting and hurling the pepper spray at the house. It hit the siding and bounced off, landing in the hedges. “ _He_ was the crazy one! _He_ was the monster!” She doubled over, gasping for air.

Jon caught movement from the corner of his eye. When he looked toward the neighbor’s house, the curtains in the downstairs window fluttered, as if someone had hastily snapped them closed before he could catch them snooping. His mood darkened even more. He was sick of the looks, of constantly being watched. Why couldn’t these people just mind their own damn business?

Taking a deep breath, Jon stepped toward her and carefully wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against his chest once more. “Breathe. Just take a deep breath.” For a moment, she shook against him, making little gasping noises, then she twisted in his embrace to hug him, her forehead pressed to his neck, hands fisted in the back of his shirt.

“We don’t have to stay here,” he said. Not that he knew where they could go. Rent an apartment, maybe.

Dany was quiet as she calmed down, sniffling against his shoulder. He stroked her hair, certain the neighbor’s eyes were burning a hole in his back.

“I could sell the house,” she finally said, her voice creaky from the tears. “I have money from the life insurance and the will. Enough for a down payment. Something small. Two bedrooms. You could stay with me.”

Why her offer should surprise him so, he didn’t know. But even then, he was relieved. Relieved she would ask him to come with her, relieved he wouldn’t be on his own again. It was selfish, maybe; he already felt like he was taking advantage of her hospitality. But he didn’t want to leave her, not yet, and that was as much for her sake as for his own. She helped him as much as he helped her.

He enjoyed being around her.

He licked his lips, staring at the front door. “Yeah.” The word came out raspy, and he cleared his throat to try again. “Yeah. If you want. If you’re not tired of me yet.”

She let out a wet laugh, shaking her head against his chest. She smelled like sweat and the faint scent of cut grass. “No.” She sounded so small when she spoke. “I already told you, I’d be lost without you, Jon.”

* * *

Dany found a small house for sale on the opposite side of King’s Landing, about as far away as she could get without putting either of them out too much when it came to their work commutes. She paid a real estate agent to ready her parents’ house for sale—and to both her and Jon’s disbelief, the house sold quickly, though below market value. The market was competitive, however, especially in King’s Landing, and many prospective homeowners, desperate to live as close to downtown as they could get, weren’t going to let a little murder deter them.

Dany was just glad to be rid of it. She and Jon packed up everything, putting most of it in storage, stuff Dany couldn’t bear to look at or wasn’t quite ready to part with just yet. Since Jon’s doctor still advised against lifting and moving heavy objects, Dany hired a moving company to do all the work for them, so the transition to the new place was relatively painless.

Dany started back to work prior to the move, her bereavement period exhausted. Keeping busy seemed to help her. Jon hadn’t been awakened in the middle of the night by her screams in a while, though sometimes when he got up to piss or get a glass of water, he found her curled up asleep on the couch, despite their new accommodations. If she still got freaked out at night, he didn’t blame her; though extremely infrequent, he still had his own nightmares, too, where he woke up paralyzed and slick with sweat. These days, however, they were only ever about Dany getting shot.

Anytime he found her on the couch, he made sure to put a blanket over her before returning to his room.

Their schedules still didn’t really line up, especially once Jon resumed working his normal hours, no longer solely relegated to behind the bar. It seemed weird to share a house with her and hardly see her. Lonely, too.

So when his coworker Grenn invited him to a house party on a Sunday night—a night when many of the servers from the bar weren’t working—he invited Dany, aware she’d likely decline in favor of a good night’s sleep.

But she surprised him by agreeing to go.

As he drove them to Grenn’s house in Flea Bottom, he noticed Dany’s knee bouncing as she stared out the window. “You nervous or something?” he asked with a wan laugh.

She turned her head to look at him and ceased her knee-jiggling. “No. Not really.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been hiding away in the house, only leaving to go to work. Sometimes to the store, too, but I get fed up with all the weird looks and people coming up to me to ask how I’m holding up. Now I just order what I can online. I haven’t even seen my own friends that much lately.”

Jon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe you’d rather hang out with them tonight instead?”

When he looked at her again, she turned back to the window. “I don’t know. Might be nice to just hang out with people who don’t know me. Who won’t look at me with that look in their eyes.”

He didn’t say anything else, driving the rest of the way to Flea Bottom in silent contemplation, a radio news program on in the background. A few minutes later, he parked along the street a few houses down from Grenn’s place, the party apparently already in full-swing. Climbing out of the driver’s seat, Jon joined Dany on the sidewalk, where she waited for him, and they walked side by side to his coworker’s house. Even before they ascended the front steps, Jon could hear the heavy bass of the music and the shouts and laughter from inside.

The door swung open at his knock, and Grenn greeted him heartily, faking a punch to his right side where he’d been shot. Jon flinched, but Grenn pulled back before his fist could make contact and laughed.

“Fuck you, man,” Jon huffed out good-naturedly, clapping his friend on the back when Grenn pulled him into a hug.

“You know I’m just fucking with you. You’re like, maybe, three times cooler with that scar. If I were into dudes, I’d probably suck your dick right now.”

Jon shook his head, stifling an instinctive eyeroll. That was part of the problem; his friends, or at least the people he worked with, just thought the gunshot made for a good story. They didn’t really seem to grasp what had happened to him. And to Dany. But he tried not to dwell on it, to not let his thoughts take a dark turn. Not tonight.

“Not necessary but thanks for offering,” Jon said, and Grenn raised his eyebrows, looking between him and Dany. He grinned.

“Yeah? Has it already been taken care of then?”

Jon’s face blistered red as Grenn’s implication hit him. Luckily, Dany didn’t seem to be following the conversation, her brow puckered in question as Grenn looked her up and down.

Jon coughed into his hand. “Ah, no. No, this is—” _My aunt?_ What the hell should he call her? Aunt sounded too weird. “This is Dany. I brought a friend. Hope that’s cool.”

Grenn's eyes went wide with recognition. “Yeah!” He greeted her with a hug, catching her off guard. Then she laughed, making Jon smile. “Hey. I’m Grenn. Welcome. Grab all the booze you want. You deserve it.”

Once Grenn released her, Jon and Dany made their way to the kitchen. He nodded and high-fived the people he recognized between the front door and the fridge. Selecting two beers from the fridge, Jon handed one to Dany, who made a face at him. “Grenn knows about me, doesn’t he?”

Jon froze, trying to gauge her reaction. “Yeah. Sorry. I don’t go telling everyone the story or anything. They already know the gist of it from the news. And from other people talking, I guess.”

“Yeah. I figured.” She popped the tab on her beer and took a long pull from it.

“You okay?” he asked.

Lowering her beer, she nodded. “Yeah. I was just wondering.” She smiled and tapped her can to his in cheers. “Let’s just drink and try to forget things for one night. If they’ll let us.”

* * *

Jon hit his vape pen as he watched Dany from across the room, talking to some guy. Daario, or something stupid like that. She’d only met him earlier that night, and Jon didn’t know anything about him, so he kept an eye on her. He was just worried about her. She wasn’t the only woman at the party, but she was by far the prettiest and seemed to invite a lot of attention of the male persuasion.

She’d ignored most of it all night. Except Daario. He was pushy. But maybe she liked that. How much did Jon know about her, really? Before the incident, they’d never hung out, and the months since hadn’t exactly been typical.

Dany laughed at something Daario said, touching his arm, and Daario smirked at her. Inexplicably, Jon’s mood darkened. Knocking back the rest of his beer, he stood up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. Most of the partygoers had moved out onto the cramped back deck, only a few lingering in the kitchen, getting refills or grabbing slices of room-temperature pizza. Jon tossed his empty can into the recycling bin and grabbed another beer from the fridge. He stood at the sink as he drank it, staring out the window at the people in the backyard, friends and strangers alike.

These days, he felt so separate from everyone else. Like an invisible wall pinned him in. He talked to them, laughed with them, but in his head he was always somewhere else. He didn’t feel like he belonged here. He didn’t know where he belonged. Maybe nowhere.

“Are you ready to go?”

At Dany’s question, Jon craned his head around. She stood at the kitchen island, eyebrows raised in question. He looked past her, but Daario was nowhere to be seen.

He turned to face her. “I just opened another beer,” he said. “Are you?”

She shrugged, leaning on her elbows on the island. “I’m fine with whatever. I just saw you get up. Thought you might be trying to leave.”

Stepping up to the island, Jon mirrored her stance. “I wouldn’t ghost you like that. I’m your ride.”

Her smile was droll. “I think I’ll be the one driving us home. That’s your, what, fifth beer?”

Embarrassed, he straightened. “I guess, yeah. You’ve had a few drinks, too.”

Dany pushed her red Solo cup toward him. “I switched to water two drinks ago.”

“Oh.” Jon scratched at his beard. “Are you not having a good time?”

“I am.” She shrugged, picking her cup up to sip. “I don’t know. I have to work tomorrow. But I felt myself getting a little buzzed, and I just...started to feel weird. My chest was tight. Thought I might have a panic attack, so I stopped drinking. I guess I can’t even have a good time anymore.” Her laugh was weak.

He pressed his palms flat on the island countertop. “What about that guy you were talking to? Looked like you were having a good time then.”

“Daario?” Dany looked over her shoulder then back at Jon. “He seems fine. I don’t know.” She shrugged again. “Maybe I should have sex with him.”

Jon nearly choked on his own spit. “Fuck. I mean, okay.” He forced a hoarse chuckle. “If that’s what you want.” He swigged his beer to ease the tightness in his throat.

She laughed and stood up straight. “Was that too blunt? Sorry.” She ran her hand down the length of her braid and played with the end. “It’s just been a while for me. Maybe I just need a distraction. Something for tonight. You know?”

He couldn’t meet her eye. “Yeah. Maybe. You’re an adult.” Hearing how hard his voice sounded, Jon cleared his throat. “Distractions can be nice.”

Dany leaned forward on her elbows again, cupping her cheeks in her hands. “Yeah. I just don’t know if I’m in the right frame of mind for it. Does that make sense?”

Uncomfortable, Jon scratched at his beard. “Not really, but I don’t know if I’ve ever been in the right frame of mind before,” he said.

She tilted her head to the side. “What? Never?”

Uncomfortable with the turn in conversation, he shifted on his feet. “Guess I’ve always preferred to be in relationships.”

“Really?” She snorted. “Jon. You’re so _pretty_ though. How do you keep all the women away?”

He flushed. “I don’t know,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that hard.”

Skeptically, she narrowed her eyes at him as he sipped his beer and shook her head. “How many girlfriends have you had then?”

“Two.” Ygritte and Val. The number sounded pathetically low when he said it out loud. But he'd dated Ygritte for two years, which was a lifetime in college. Val had only been a rebound relationship, he'd realized in hindsight, but even then that had dragged on for six months.

Dany's eyes went round. “So that means you’ve only had sex with two women?”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, annoyed.

Even in the face of his irritation, she smiled. “No. It’s sweet.”

“What about you? Should we talk about you?”

“You mean, how many women have I had sex with?” She was still smiling. “One.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Bullshit.”

She laughed at his incredulity. “Why is that so hard to believe? Look, I’m just giving you a hard time. You’re a girlfriend-kind-of guy. I like that. I mean, most women would.” He raked a hand through his hair, weirdly rattled, and she reached across the island to flick his hand with her finger. “Come on. We’re family. Family gives each other shit, right?”

He gave her a deadpan look, but already he was softening at her teasing. “About their sex lives? I don’t think so.”

“Please. If you had a brother, he would rag on your ass so much harder than I am.”

Jon chuckled. “I think you’re worse than a brother, but—” He choked back the rest of the words: _At least you’re more attractive_. That was weird, way too fucking weird to say to her. Right? But she’d called him pretty, too.

“But?” she prompted, eyebrow raised.

Jon was actually grateful when Daario appeared then. “There you are.” He sidled up to Dany. “You said you were coming back.”

She glanced at Daario then at Jon with a faint smile. “I did say that, didn’t I? Guess I got distracted.”

Daario looked at him next, sizing him up. Jon was familiar with this male ritual, but he didn’t give Daario the satisfaction of reacting in kind. He simply nodded in greeting and swigged his beer.

Daario seemed to visibly relax, a smile spreading across his face. “Jon, isn’t it? You’re her cousin or something, right?”

Jon smiled tightly. “Something like that.”

“Yeah, she was telling me about you,” Daario went on. He cracked a derisive grin. “I don’t know. From the way she talked about you, I guess I was expecting something different.”

Jon held Daario’s gaze, refusing to look away, but Dany spoke before he could respond. “He saved my life,” she said coolly. Her face had turned to stone, all previous friendliness gone.

Daario must have heard the reproach in her voice, as he smiled sheepishly at her. “Yeah. Hey, that was real great what you did for her,” he said to Jon. Somehow, his ass-kissing was even more grating than his posturing. “That must have been crazy, right?”

Jon stared at him, unblinking. Dany finished her water then set the empty cup down. “Jon, you ready to go?”

“Sure,” he agreed with unhurried indifference. Okay, maybe he was posturing a little, too.

Daario looked stunned. “You’re leaving?”

She smiled at him, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve gotta be at work early. It was nice meeting you, Daario.”

Jon didn’t finish the rest of his beer, nodding at Daario as he followed Dany out of the kitchen. He didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone as most of the people he knew were out back and were likely too high to realize he’d left, anyway.

Outside on the front porch, Dany held her hand out to him. “Keys.”

He fished them out of his pocket to hand them to her, and they walked the rest of the way to his car in silence. He slipped into the passenger seat as she got in the driver’s side and adjusted the seat to her height, then the mirrors.

He waited till she pulled away from the curb. “So.” A beat passed. “Still wanna fuck that guy?”

Startled, she let out a bark of laughter. “I never said I had great taste, okay?” She cringed, nose wrinkling. “But no, definitely not now. What a jackass.”

Jon turned to look out the window, fighting a grin of his own. He was surprised when he felt her hand on his arm and turned his head back to her. She squeezed her fingers around his wrist but kept her focus on the road, briefly flicking her eyes to him then forward again. “Hey.” Her tone was gravely serious all of a sudden, and he braced himself. “I just—I really want you to know that...I’m glad you’re in my life. Even if you weren’t my family, I think we’d be friends. I really like you, Jon.”

“Yeah.” The hoarse word turned like gravel in his throat. He cleared it. “I like you too, Dany.”

This time when she looked at him, she smiled.

* * *

The house was dark when Jon got back from his shift at the bar. It was late, so he moved quietly, not turning on any lights, as he made his way to his room in the back of the house. Only when he shut his door did he flip on his bedroom light, ready to strip out of his uniform, which reeked of liquor and greasy food. Jon turned around and went still at the sight of the petite figure in his bed.

Dany was curled up on her side, asleep. She was dressed in sweatpants and a oversized t-shirt, her silver hair spilling loose from its braid.

He stared at her unmoving form as he tried to figure out what the hell she was doing there. In his bed.

After a moment, he licked his dry lips and shuffled closer. “Dany,” he murmured then shook his head at himself. He tried again, louder this time. Her eyes fluttered open and met his, then, after a brief delay, she sat up.

“Oh, shit.” She looked contrite as she rubbed at her face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, trying not to let his eyes drop below her chin. She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her shirt, and the fabric was so thin, he could see the outline of her pebbled nipples.

Dany looked around for a clock and let out a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep earlier. I came in here to see if you’d left your vape pen out somewhere, but I couldn’t find it. Then I thought I’d just sit down and wait for you, but I guess I dozed off.” She grimaced. “Sorry. If I’d found your vape pen, I would have told you I’d used it.”

Jon turned around to his dresser, yanking out the top drawer and rifling through his socks and underwear to find his pen. Then he turned back to her and tossed it to her. “Guess I don’t really need to hide it here, but old habits.”

Dany grabbed it from where it’d landed on the bed and folded her legs under her, giving him a sleep-soft smile. “You’re the best.”

Jon sat down on the edge of his bed, twisting toward her. “Still having nightmares?” he asked gently.

She shrugged, sucking down a long hit from the pen. He waited, and finally, exhaling, she said, “Sometimes. Not as badly. Being here helps. In this house, I mean. I don’t know what triggers my anxiety, really.”

She passed the pen to him, and he accepted it, taking a few puffs from it in quick succession. “Seems normal.”

“Yeah?” Her expression turned sardonic, eyebrow arching. “Would you say it’s fine?”

“It’s fine,” he said, poker-faced. She rolled her eyes.

“And how are _you_ doing?”

He smiled. “I’m fine.”

She leaned forward to snatch the pen from him, and he chuckled as she took another hit. “You’re fine. I’m fine. _We’re_ fine,” she mimicked then coughed, the vapor curling from her lips. She waved the pen in the air. “ _This_ is fine.”

Still laughing, he rubbed at his eyes. “Once that kicks in, _then_ you’ll be fine.” She snorted and kicked her foot out, catching him in the thigh. He grabbed her foot and squeezed her toes, but she went absolutely still, her eyes wide.

“Don’t,” she warned. “Jon. _Don’t_.”

He lifted his eyebrows, eyes going large. “Oh, wow.” He laughed. “Are you _that_ ticklish?”

“I swear to the Seven, Jon,” she breathed out, threatening. “If you tickle me, I will kick you in the face so hard.”

Shaking his head, he loosened his grip on her foot, and she jerked away from him, shimmying backward on his bed for good measure. His mouth twisted in amusement. “Next time, don’t start something you can’t finish,” he suggested.

She wrinkled her nose at him and _hmph_ ed petulantly, pulling his pillow around, fluffing it and laying her head down on it as she curled up on her side once again. “Tickling is dirty. I prefer fair fights.”

Jon lay down on his back beside her, one foot still planted on the floor. There was about a foot of space between them, but it was too close. He could still feel the soft skin of her foot in his hand, and he shifted uncomfortably, frowning at the ceiling.

Gods. Was he really getting aroused by her fucking _foot_?

Suddenly, everything about this moment was too intimate. Too flirty. He knew he should get up and put some space between them, go to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, brush his teeth, give her enough time to retreat to her own room so he didn’t have to see her in that threadbare shirt a second longer.

 _Get up,_ he told himself. But he couldn’t move. His head already felt too heavy, his limbs like stone. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He was overreacting. It was fine.

Dany moaned under her breath, and he went stiff in alarm. She wriggled closer and sniffed him deeply before moving back. “ _Gods_. You smell good. Like…”

“Cheese fries,” he offered, his body relaxing even as he felt his cock stir traitorously. _Fucking hell._

“Mm.” Dany laughed softly. “Now I’m hungry.”

Jon kept his eyes closed, breathing evenly, purposefully, willing his erection away before it became noticeable. “Weed can do that to you,” he said mildly, his voice strained.

They both fell quiet, just the soft sounds of their breathing between them. Gradually, his body relaxed, the blood once again flowing to the appropriate places. Just as he was starting to drift off, she spoke. “Jon.”

His eyes fluttered open, reluctant, sluggish, and he turned his head to face her. “What?” he asked. The light overhead was still on, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up and turn it off.

She hesitated. Between them, her fingers curled into her palm on top of the mattress. But she shook her head. “Nothing.”

He began to close his eyes again, but they fixed on her hand, flexing and unflexing in the sheets. He watched her fingers for a moment then lifted his gaze to her face. It was a bad idea, but his thoughts were muddied now. He acted on instinct. “Turn over.”

She looked at him, surprised, only briefly, before she obeyed, rolling over so her back was to him. He moved closer, loosely spooning her from behind. He felt it—the moment the tension melted from her bones on a quiet sigh. She trembled only once.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Surprisingly, he fell asleep rather quickly after that.

* * *

Stepping onto the sidewalk, Jon stopped to stare up at the house before him. Dany walked around the car to join him, and he looked to her, flashing a tight smile.

“Thanks for coming with me. You didn’t have to,” he said, looking away as he nervously jingled his keys in his pocket. He was going to see his mother for the first time in almost a year. He hadn’t seen her since he’d gone to visit her on his last break between semesters, before she’d checked herself into rehab again. Now she was done with the treatment program and was trying to ease back into a normal routine at the sober living house. When he’d told Dany he was taking a day off work to go visit his mother, she asked if she could tag along. _Road trips aren’t fun alone,_ she'd told him. It was only a few hours’ drive, but he’d ended up enjoying her company all the same.

“Of course, I did,” Dany said easily. Her hand slipped into his free hand, startling him. “She’s my family, too. I’d like to see her.”

Jon looked down at their joined hands, her pale fingers interlocked with his darker, tanned hands. When he dragged his gaze back to her face, she watched him innocently. “Ready?”

He nodded. “Yep.” Strangely, he felt better already. Her touch was soothing. He didn’t know why he should feel so nervous to see his mother again. Maybe because he feared this would lead to disappointment, as it always had in the past. Or maybe because this was the first time he was seeing her since his shooting, and he didn’t know if he could handle it if she started to cry.

As they made their way up the front steps of the house, the front door swung inward and the screen door banged open. “Jon!” Lyanna nearly pounced on him, engulfing him in a hug—even though he was half a head taller than his mother now. “Oh, my baby boy!”

Jon felt Dany release his hand so he could return the hug, and he did, squeezing his mother tight. “Mom.” His throat spasmed with emotion, and he swallowed against it, letting out a rough laugh instead.

She pulled back to look up at him, her cheeks wet. For the first time in a long time, her eyes looked clear. “I’m so happy to see you. To hold you.” She reached up and smoothed his hair back as she studied his face, then she cupped his cheeks. “Are you okay?” Then she was patting him down like she was checking him for injuries. “Where is it? Is it this side?” she asked, already pawing at his sweater to look at his stomach. Jon flinched when the chilly air hit his bare skin, and she gasped at the sight of the pink puckered scar. Hastily, he jerked his sweater down.

“Seven Hells, Mom, you’re embarrassing me,” he joked, cursing himself when her eyes watered again. She covered her mouth.

“Forgive me, Jon—you were _shot_ ,” she retorted, then she seemed to notice Dany standing behind him. She turned to the younger woman, her eyes widening. “Dany! Oh—I’m sorry, I don’t think Jon mentioned you were coming.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t know either. Sorry.”

Dany smiled shyly, clutching her purse to her side. “Hi, Lyanna. It’s good to see you again.”

After an awkward hesitation, the two women hugged. They were nearly the same height, but otherwise they were as different as night and day: Dany with her pale skin and moonglow hair, his mother with her dark eyes and hair the color of midnight.

“Gods, I’m sorry,” Lyanna said with a wet laugh. “You just...you remind me so much of Rhaegar.”

Dany’s smile thinned, her glance shifting to Jon for help. He cleared his throat. “Should we go inside, or do you want to get lunch? Are we allowed to take you somewhere?”

Lyanna wiped at her face. “Yeah. I’d like that. Just let me go sign out.”

Jon and Dany drove her to a little cafe nearby. He would have liked to have taken her somewhere nicer, but he wasn’t familiar with the area and he wanted to get back home before it was too late, especially since Dany was with him. Lyanna assured him the cafe was fine. As it was, she was much more interested in chatting than eating and hardly touched her soup and sandwich as she peppered him, and Dany, with questions. About that night—though she didn’t linger on it long once she saw how painful the topic was for Dany—about his recovery, how he was doing now, what he was up to.

“Still looking for an actual job so my degree doesn’t go to waste,” Jon said in jest. “And so I don’t have to keep living off Dany. I’m sure she’ll be relieved.”

“I told you I don’t mind,” she interjected. He smiled slightly at her, but when he looked back to his mom, he saw she’d gone pale. She teared up, and he stifled a groan, realizing he’d said the wrong thing. Dany sipped at her soup, sinking low into her seat, as if she could disappear and allow them this private moment.

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Lyanna whispered. “It’s my fault you’re in this position. I failed you. All my mistakes compounded everything for you, and I couldn’t even help you when you needed it—”

“Shit. Mom, it’s fine.” He reached across the table to grab her hand. “Like I said, I just want you to be happy and healthy. Everything is already handled on my end.”

“How?” Lyanna croaked out. “How can you say that?”

Jon glanced to Dany then back at his mom. “I’m working at the bar. I’m making ends meet. Dany helped me with the hospital bill, and...we— _she_ bought a house and sold the old one.”

Blinking away her tears, Lyanna looked between them. “So you’re not in that house still?”

“No,” Dany said quietly. “It wasn’t good for either of us.”

Lyanna continued to stare at her. “And you bought a new house?”

Jon frowned at his mother’s questions, and Dany shifted uncomfortably in her chair, unnerved. “Yes. Everything my parents had went to me in the will, plus there was the life insurance.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s a small house. Nothing extravagant. There’s only two rooms. Just enough space for me and Jon.”

Lyanna reared back as if she’d been slapped. “You moved in with her?” she directed at Jon, who could feel an embarrassed flush creeping into his face. He didn’t understand the incredulity and hostility in his mother’s voice.

“We’ve been helping each other out after everything…” he trailed off awkwardly, not sure why he felt such acute horror at the turn in this conversation.

“Jon’s been helping me mostly,” Dany said quickly. “I’ve been, um, struggling with anxiety and panic attacks ever since...well. It just helps to have someone around. So I’m not alone.”

“Oh.” Lyanna nodded slowly. “Of course. I can understand that. Believe me.” After a moment, her mouth pulled into a grimace of a smile. “Well. I’m glad you two have been able to help each other through this. Gods know I’ve been useless,” she said, her expression souring.

“I’m fine, Mom, really,” Jon stressed. When he looked at Dany, she mouthed the word “ _f_ _ine_ ” then ducked her head to hide her grim smile in her soup.

After lunch, they took Lyanna back to the facility to say goodbye. Lyanna asked her son to hang back when they dropped her off at the front door, and after hugging her former sister-in-law one last time, Dany went back to the car to wait.

“You look good, Mom,” Jon said sincerely.

“I feel good,” she admitted. “I think I can do it this time. I really do.” He believed her; he wanted to. But he’d learned to keep his hopes low, so as not to put any pressure on her. So he just nodded in support.

She hugged him again, kissing his cheek. When she pulled back, her expression looked severe. “Jon. I want you to be careful. Okay?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?” Then it hit him. “Oh. I’m off the pain meds now. That’s not a problem.”

But she shook her head. “No. I know. You’re stubborn like that. I just mean…” She glanced over his shoulder, toward the car, and Jon’s back stiffened. “Well. I don’t know.” She gave a meek laugh. “Maybe I’m imagining things.”

“Seven Hells, Mom. It’s not like that,” he spoke lowly, his entire body going hot. Lyanna swallowed and pulled at her sleeves, reminding him of a little kid.

“I just...I remember what Rhaegar was like. He was...charismatic. Captivating. Fun. He was hard to resist. I loved your father, but...that love blinded me to so many red flags early on.”

Jon got that sick slippery feeling in his stomach, and his heart thumped loudly in his ears. He blew out a breath and looked away, jerking a shaky hand through his hair. Unbidden, the memory of sleeping beside Dany in his bed came to him then, but he pushed it away. It wasn't like that. Right? “Come on, Mom—she’s my—she’s family. She’s the only family I have left now, the only person who’s been there for me the last few months.”

His mother’s face fell at that. Again, he cursed himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he said, practically on reflex.

“No, I get it,” she said softly. Another forced smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’ve had her to help you. That you had someone, at least.” She didn’t say anything more, just stared at him sadly, a deep regret and love shining in her eyes. Gruffly, Jon pulled her in for another hug.

“I love you, Mom. Call me again when you can. Maybe when you’re approved for a weekend pass, I can come pick you up.”

She hugged him back, just as tightly. “I’d like that. I love you too, Jon.”

Once he was in the car, Dany regarded him warily. “Everything okay?”

He didn’t meet her eyes, just nodded as he buckled his seatbelt in the driver’s seat. “Yeah. Let’s go home.” He didn’t even realize what he’d said until he saw her freeze from the corner of his eye. _Home_. He’d never called it that before. Wasn’t even sure he’d thought of it as _home_ until now. Hadn’t realized just how natural it felt to be going to the same destination, with her.

He glanced at her, an unnecessary apology on his tongue, a joke, a deflection, something, but she smiled sweetly, stealing the words from him. They weren’t needed after all.

Jon started the car and pulled away from the curb. Heading home.

* * *

From his nightstand, Jon’s phone buzzed with a text, followed immediately by another one. After a moment, he got up from his computer where he was playing “Overwatch” and grabbed his phone to read the messages. They were from Dany.

 _You off work tonight?_  
_Come out here_

Jon raked a hand through his hair, then replied back _Sure_ before he went back to his computer. After hastily telling his friends he had to go, he quit the game and left his room. In the living room, he found Dany on the couch, scrolling through Netflix. He could smell the mouth-watering aroma of butter and popcorn, heard the faint popping of the kernels from the kitchen.

“What’s up?” he asked, and she twisted around to face.

“Hey. Nothing. You’re just rarely home at night when I am. Wanna watch a movie with me?”

He smiled. "Depends. What movie?"

Dany turned back to the TV. "That's what I'm trying to figure out now." The microwave beeped three times, the popcorn done. "Can you get that? I'll pick the movie."

"I don't know if I trust your taste in movies," he said, heading for the kitchen anyway.

"You don't know my taste in movies!" she yelled after him. His smile lingered as he pulled a bowl down from the cabinet and grabbed the bag from the microwave. Ripping it open, he dumped the contents into the bowl and carried it back into the living room. Instead of walking around the couch, he jumped over the back of it and settled in beside Dany, careful not to spill the popcorn. She shot him a look.

"Whoa, easy on the parkour there," she admonished, looking pointedly at his stomach. "Is that smart?"

He shrugged, grabbing a fistful of popcorn. "It's fine now. Doesn't bother me." She looked uncertain still, so he offered her the bowl and ate his handful. "What did you pick?"

Tossing a few popped kernels in her mouth, Dany unpaused the movie she'd started up and smiled smugly. "You'll see."

* * *

 Jon dropped his head on the back of the couch, blowing out a beleaguered sigh. "How long is this movie, exactly?"

Dany's eyes stay glued to the screen as she answered him. "Three hours, I think."

He groaned. "Seven hells. When you asked to watch a movie, I thought it'd be something fun. Even a horror movie would have been fine. Not this shit."  _This shit_ was a documentary on the Faith Militant, a religious cult that had infested King's Landing decades ago before finally meeting its demise when the High Sparrow, the leader of the cult, gathered all his followers in the Great Sept and then blew it up as some great sacrifice to the gods. The true-life story was interesting, of course, but this had to be the driest documentary he had ever seen. 

Dany laughed, the bowl of popcorn shaking on her belly where it sat. The movie was so long, they'd had to make a new batch of popcorn. Now she was stretched out on the couch, her legs resting across his lap, head craned toward the TV. He'd had to pee for the last half hour but didn't want to get up and disturb her position. "You don't like to learn things when you watch movies?" she asked.

Jon huffed. "No. That's what books are for."

"Hmm." She finally glanced at him. "You're not completely uncultured, then."

"Remind me. Isn't Harrenhal ranked higher in the country than the Eyrie?"

She scowled. "Dick."

With a chuckle, he reached over to grab some more popcorn, but she pushed the bowl toward him, sitting up. When she tucked her legs under her, he set the bowl down in his empty lap. "Look, it's over now, you big baby," she said, gesturing to the screen where the credits rolled. "You can go back to your video games or whatever you were doing before."

He didn't move, even though he still had to piss. "Why do you assume I was playing video games?" he asked, feigning offense. She shifted around to get comfortable, inadvertently moving closer to him.

"Weren't you?"

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes, and he laughed. "But I'm good here. Maybe we watch a movie of my choosing now."

"Now? It's like 11."

"Is it?" Jon pulled his phone out of his pocket to check. 11:07 p.m. His face fell. "Shit. And I guess you need to go to bed since you've got work in the morning."

"I do, yes," she agreed, but she didn't make any moves to leave. She looked between him and the TV. "But if we  _were_ to watch another movie, what would you pick? Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Hypothetically?" He racked his brain, trying to remember what he'd seen on Netflix recently. Normally, he would just scroll through the menu for half an hour, unable to settle on anything, before giving up and listening to music or playing video games instead. But this decision seemed important. Crucial. "I guess...'Thor: Ragnarok.' Hypothetically."

He held his breath, judging her reaction as she thought it over. Then she gave a decisive nod, leaning back into the couch cushions, pressed against him from shoulder to thigh like it was the most normal thing. At this point, maybe it was. "Okay. Let's do it."

His breath hissed out in his surprise. "Hypothetically still or...?"

She nudged him, snuggling against his side. "Start the movie, Jon."

* * *

When he got home from work, Dany was in his bed. Again. It was two in the morning, and she was dead asleep. If she was looking for his vape pen, she would have known where to find it, would have taken it back to her room to fall asleep there. If that was all she'd wanted.

Jon didn’t think that was what she’d come for this time. She'd been better lately, he thought. Sometimes, it was surprisingly easy to forget what had happened to them. 

He didn’t try to wake her, instead taking his pajamas to the bathroom to change, piss, brush his teeth. Then he went back to his room and studied her in the ambient light of the street lamps outside, seeing if she would stir. She didn’t. After a moment, he crawled in with her and turned away, willing himself to sleep. It was hard with her warmth at his back. She slept on top of the covers, at least. He released a deep, shaky breath to unravel the tension cramping his limbs.

Eventually, the soft sounds of her breaths lulled him to sleep.

* * *

“Does it bother you?” she asked him one night, after he’d climbed into his bed beside her. He’d gotten used to finding her there by now, especially if he worked late and didn't see her all day.

She spoke softly, too softly, her voice hushed in the dark, and he was almost sure he’d imagined it. She didn’t move, her face turned away from him, but he could see the flutter of her lashes as she waited for his reply.

“No,” he answered honestly.

“Okay,” she breathed out. Jon lay down behind her, not turning onto his opposite side to face away from her this time.

He awoke to a comforting pressure on his groin, a warmth that made his cock twitch and grow heavy. As he surfaced to consciousness, Jon struggled to peel his eyes open, sucking in a breath when the pressure bore down harder against his groin. He inhaled lemon and lavender, and blinked, realizing his nose was buried in Dany’s hair, his chest pressed against her back. His hand was on her hip. She was pushing into his embrace, her ass against his cock.

She shifted again. A deliberate arch into his groin this time, and his erection thickened. His heart started pounding erratically. Mind still blurred with sleep, he slid his hand down her hip, over her shorts. When he touched her crotch through the thin cotton, she went stiff then jerked away from him. Instantly, Jon rolled onto his back, holding his breath, heart in his throat.

“Don’t,” she whispered shakily. He squeezed his eyes shut, stomach sinking. For a second he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, his mouth going dry with panic.

Finally, he croaked out, “Sorry. I don’t know—” He stopped and swallowed. “Sorry.”

He could hear her quick, ragged breaths. “It’s—it’s fine. It was an accident. We were asleep. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he said dumbly. Even in his horror, his cock was still hard. Throbbing. Swallowing again, Jon turned on his side so he was facing away from her, so far away he was nearly hanging off the edge of the bed.

Jon listened to her, wondering what she would do. She didn’t move, didn’t get up and leave. She lay perfectly still on the other side of the bed, the only sign she was still there her uneven breaths.

Eventually, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, too, until he finally did.

* * *

After that, he didn’t expect her to return to his bed again. He figured she might avoid him altogether. Truthfully, he was prepared to do the same, sick at the thought of having to look her in the eye after that horrendous misunderstanding. What had he been thinking, touching her like that? His fucking _aunt_?

He got home from work at a reasonable hour the next night. He’d been relieved he was scheduled to work, thinking he could avoid her, but the bar was slow so he’d been cut early.

As he’d suspected, Dany was holed up in her bedroom, likely already asleep. Still, he crept to his bedroom, holding his breath till the door was shut behind him.

Blowing out his breath, he stared at his empty bed. It was for the best. He was becoming too attached to her. Too dependent. It wasn’t healthy. After seeing his mom on opiates for so many years, he knew what an addiction looked like.

He was just about to strip and climb into bed when he heard a faint knock on the door behind him. Jon froze, only for a moment, before he turned to answer it. Dany stood on the other side, leaning on the door frame. Her mouth turned down into an unhappy moue.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on his chest. “Last night. That was entirely my fault. I’m sorry I made it weird.”

His lips parted, no words coming to him immediately. “You were asleep,” he said. She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t think—” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “I don’t think either of us realized what we were doing.” He forced an awkward laugh.

“Yeah.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I guess—um. I don’t know.” Her cheeks pinkened. “It just...it felt nice waking up, feeling surrounded. I wasn’t thinking.”

His face went hot. “I’m sorry, Dany. I was out of line doing that.”

She just shrugged and finally looked him in the eye. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah,” he said readily. “Of course. I mean, I am if you are.”

She nodded, her lips pulling into a humorless smile. “Okay. I just wanted to tell you that. Goodnight.”

Why did she look so sad still? Dany turned to retreat to her room, but he called after her. When she looked at him again, he asked, “Are you sleeping okay?”

She twisted her fingers in the hem of her t-shirt. It was the same one as before, threadbare, too thin to be appropriate. _Fuck._ Despite his best intentions, he glanced at her breasts before quickly dragging his eyes back to her face. Her expression had turned sheepish, but she only shrugged in answer to his question.

He scrubbed a hand down over his mouth. “You’re welcome in my room.” He flushed and coughed. “If you need me. If you need to sleep, I mean.”

She smiled and started to turn away but pivoted back to him. “You got your vape pen?”

Relieved, he waved her into his room. While she sat down cross-legged on his bed, Jon retrieved his vape pen from his dresser then joined her on the bed, letting her hit it first before he took it from her.

“The best social lubricant for any awkward situation, right?” Dany asked after she’d exhaled. Jon nearly choked on his lungful of vapor and laughed as he coughed it out. She grinned at him, but after a moment, her smile slipped, and her expression turned pensive.

“Your mom doesn’t like me, does she?”

He furrowed his brow, confused by the abrupt question. “What? Why do you think that?”

She gave him a dubious look. “I think I’m pretty good at reading people.” She lifted her shoulder. “I was just thinking about it earlier, I guess. When we visited her. She wasn’t happy that you and I are hanging out. Then she pulls you aside while I wait in the car to give you a stern talking to. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He scratched at his nose, then took another hit to stall. Finally, he breathed it out. “You’re not. I just think...you make her think of my dad. It’s hard for her. She’s never been able to get over him.”

Dany’s face went soft at that, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. “Yeah, I get it.” He offered the vape pen to her, and she took it, then after a deep inhale, she lay back on his pillow, closing her eyes.

When she didn’t immediately open them, Jon stretched out beside her, folding his arms behind his head to stare at the ceiling. “Do I remind you of your dad?” she asked, catching him off guard again.

He laughed despite himself, glad she wasn’t looking at him to see his disgusted grimace. “No. Or maybe I don’t remember enough of him to know.”

“Good,” she said, a hint of a smile playing on her mouth. Finally, she opened her eyes and reached under her ass to pull the covers out from underneath. Climbing under them, she threw him a look over her shoulder. “Get the light, will you?”

* * *

Jon awoke at some point, immediately aware there was a reason his sleep had been disturbed. When he opened his eyes, he saw Dany watching him, their faces only inches away from the other's. They’d turned to each other in their sleep, or maybe they’d fallen asleep this way, their heads bowed together as if in prayer. He could feel every one of her soft breaths on his lips. In the dark, her pupils were huge as she blinked at him.

His pulse quickened. It seemed as though she’d been watching him for a while now.

Dany leaned into him, closing the distance between them. Then her mouth was on his, her lips fitting between his, parted ever so slightly. Eyes closed, she held the kiss, their breaths growing louder. As he stared at her closed eyelids, his heart beat hard, pounding in his ears, louder than the sound of his breaths.

Too soon, Dany pulled away. The skin of their dry lips briefly stuck together, then separated, and she looked at him again, her violet eyes wide and alert.

Jon’s breathing came out shallow and unsteady. Absently, he licked his lips, tasting the sleep from her mouth. Her eyes dropped, lashes fluttering, as she watched his tongue. A small sigh left her parted lips, deciding it for him.

Jon lifted a hand to cup the side of her face, pulling her back to him. She met him open-mouthed, hungry and eager. His fingers trembled, so he curled them around her ear and kissed her harder, stroking his tongue into her mouth. Painted the back of her teeth, the ridged hard palate of her mouth. Dany made a soft, sticky sound deep in her throat and grabbed at his waist, twisting her hand in his shirt to pull him closer.

He was hard, his erection held in the cradle of her hips. It was difficult to hold still, to not thrust against her, as he plundered her mouth, his tongue mimicking what he desperately wanted to do between her legs, with his fingers and his cock. It was only a kiss—he wouldn’t push it farther. Not unless she did.

Dany wiped out every doubt crowding his mind when she rubbed her crotch against his erection, a sweet, shaky gasp lost from her mouth to his. Jon groaned and released her head, grabbing her by the back of her thigh to hold her against him, notching their hips together. Soon they were rutting together, the sensation blunted by layers of clothes and underwear, but _fuck_ —nothing had ever felt as good as this did.

“Jon,” she whimpered, pulling away from his mouth to catch her breath. In the absence of her lips, he dropped his mouth to her neck to suck at her flesh, tasting the salt of her skin. He thrust against the soft juncture of her thighs as she rocked her hips into his. It was clumsy, sloppy and rough, just a desperate need to get off before the reality of the moment set in—

 _No_. It would be over too soon like this.

With some effort, he stopped his mindless rutting and rolled her onto her back, tucking her beneath him, caged between his arms and legs. He kissed her again, sucking at her tongue, sinking his teeth into the plump flesh of her bottom lip. Then he returned to her neck, licking a trail down the column of her throat. Dany arched her neck as if baring her throat for him, gasping when he scraped his teeth along the hollow of her clavicle. He slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, pushing it up till he touched his fingers to her rib cage.

Dany jerked, biting off her gasp. Jon kept his face buried in her neck, too afraid to watch her reaction, but when his fingers grazed the underside of her breast, she didn’t pull away. Slowly, he cupped the weight of her breast in his palm, lifting and kneading gently. Then he brushed his thumb over her nipple, groaning when he found it stiffened into a tight little peak. Dany arched into him, pushing her breast into his hand, squirming underneath him as he teased her, stroking the tip with feather-light touches.

“Gods, yes,” she whispered, panting. With a thick swallow, Jon pushed her shirt up over her breasts to bare them, then with a quick look at her face, he lowered his mouth to the same breast he’d been playing with. Dany gasped when he tongued her nipple, pulling it between his lips. She bucked, hands clawing at his shoulders, and he sucked at it greedily, nipping the tight bud with his teeth, before he switched to her other tit, rolling her wet nipple between his fingers and pinching, twisting, until she cried out.

“Jon!” Her voice trembled, tinged with neediness. Jon swabbed his tongue over her nipple one more time before he brought his face to hers. He kissed her, their tongues brushing together briefly, then he nosed his way down to her ear.

“Let me go down on you,” he murmured, his own voice shaking. Her breath stuck in her throat, but she nodded her consent, her body taut with tension.

Letting out a breath, Jon reached a hand down, slipping his fingers under the waistband of her shorts and panties. Dany grabbed the outside of her shorts, and, together, they cautiously pushed her clothes down her hips and ass. She couldn’t reach farther than that, so Jon sat up to pull her shorts and panties off all the way. Once he had her feet untangled from the fabric, she dropped them on either side of him, knees bent, legs spread. He stared at her, her pussy open before him, her beautiful tits, full and flushed from his attentions, on display. Her stomach turned concave with a sharp, nervous breath, but she kept her thighs open, parting even wider so he could see how wet she was. Her lips were red and glossy, coated in her shiny arousal.

She was unbelievable. Everything about this moment was unbelievable. He could _smell_ her, how much she wanted him, how turned on she was. She wanted this as much as he did.

 _Fuck_. He swallowed hard. His cock was painfully erect, tenting his sweatpants. His shirt was stifling, too, so he reached up to yank it over his head. Dany watched him, eyes rapt, as she chewed on her lip.

Something came alive inside him then. Like a savage beast, he descended on her, opening his mouth over her cunt. His tongue was inside her, licking up the seam of her slit, the tang of her cum hitting him in the back of his cheeks. Dany gasped and tensed against him when his tongue pushed between her folds, thrusting deep inside her, but then she was pulling at him, holding him close, spurring him on, her hands in his hair, her thighs falling open.

“Jon! _Yes_!” she moaned, wildly undulating her hips against his mouth. Jon had to hook an arm over her hips to hold her still. He was so hungry for her, saliva was filling his mouth and pooling on her cunt as he fucked her with his tongue. “ _Gods_! That feels good. Don’t stop!” He felt her belly tremble as she tensed and bore down around his tongue, so he pulled his face back and pushed two fingers inside her to give her something to grasp. He groaned when her pussy clamped down around him. Fucking her with his fingers, he latched onto her clit next, pushing the fleshy hood back with his teeth to swipe his tongue across it.

Dany shrieked and jerked against him, tugging painfully at his hair. Rapidly, he flicked his tongue back and forth, her cunt squelching around his fingers as he pistoned them in and out of her.

“ _Gods, yes, I’m coming, I’m coming,_ ” she chanted, before her voice hitched. Then she groaned, the sound so deep and full of pleasure, it vibrated against his lips. He felt it, the moment she came, the warning gush of wetness, the grip of her pussy on his fingers, and the powerful flutters as he sucked mercilessly on her clit.

He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to wring it out of her, until she couldn’t stand it anymore. Dany’s pants and grunts grew louder, her thighs twitching around his head, but then she pushed him away, trying to close her legs against his onslaught. “Too much,” she gasped, still in the throes of her lingering orgasm. Jon wiped the cum from his mouth as he sat up, but he could still smell her on his beard.

Dany looked at him, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked. She sat up, pulling him to her by the back of his neck. They kissed wetly, Dany moaning as she sucked her juices from his tongue, his lips, then she pushed him onto his back, climbing on top of him. She tugged at his sweatpants, and Jon helped her get them off, pulling her near naked body down on top of his. Her skin was so hot against his, and he seized her mouth in another kiss, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Dany sat back and lifted her arms up, letting him yank the shirt off, then she leaned down to kiss him again.

“Condom?” she asked against his mouth, though she was already grinding down on his cock, sliding him between her legs, rubbing the base of him on her clit. Despite the pleasure of her wet cunt grinding on him, Jon’s stomach sank.

“No,” he answered, the disappointment swift and crippling. “Fuck. I haven’t had sex since I’ve been here. Do you have any?”

“No.” Dany went still as she stared down at him. After a moment, she swallowed, then let out a breath. “I’m on birth control. Just...don’t come inside me. Okay? You _have_ to pull out.” She reached between them, grabbing his heavy cock to angle him toward her cunt. He jerked in her hand.

“Okay.” He choked back a sound when she pushed down on him, swallowing him into her wet heat with some difficulty. Her teeth flashed in the dark as she swiveled her hips and gasped, rising and falling above him until his cock was buried fully inside her. _Gods_ , she was so fucking hot and tight and wet. Better than anything he ever could have imagined—and he could finally admit to himself he had imagined it _a lot_.

Finally seated, Dany began to ride him without preamble, fast and hard, bouncing on top of him.

“Fuck—Dany—” He fought to keep his eyes open, admiring the way she rode his cock. The feel of her—surrounding him—seven hells _._ With a grunt, Jon grabbed her hips to help her, lifting her as he thrust into her.

“Jon,” she gasped, her thighs gripping him tightly, tits jiggling. “ _So good_.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, pressing his head back into the pillow, fucking her faster from underneath. His balls tightened, a tingling crawling up his spine in warning. “Fuck. I’m gonna come.” He thrust up into her a few more times, then stopped her with a pained groan. “Stop, stop.”

With a whimper, Dany climbed off him, but she grabbed his cock before he could. Then, crouched between his legs, she sucked him into her mouth. Her lips and tongue engulfed him as deeply as she could, and she tightened her hand around the root of his cock, jerking him off with fast, confined movements until he came a few strokes later. With a grunt, Jon sat up and palmed the back of her head, gently holding her down on him as he filled her mouth. Her throat contracted as she swallowed his cum, and he groaned, a shudder racking his body as he spurted again, and again.

“Dany,” he said helplessly, breathless, watching her head bob over his cock until he was completely done.

Drained, he flopped down on his back, and Dany let his spent cock slip from her mouth, sitting up straight. Their eyes met, briefly, but she looked away, wiping her hand across her lips and chin to catch any cum and saliva. “I’ve gotta use the bathroom,” she muttered and hastily climbed off the bed. Swallowing, Jon looked away as she scrambled around his room until she found her shirt and slipped it back on. When she left his bedroom, he slung his arm over his face.

Shit shit _shit_. He’d really fucked up now.

He didn’t move for a long moment, his eyes squeezed shut and buried in the crook of his arm as the euphoria of his orgasm faded, shame filling the space it left behind. He nearly jumped when he felt the bed dip beside him, not having heard the door shut. Moving his arm, he saw Dany climbing in beside him. She didn’t meet his eyes but lay down beside him, burrowing under the covers and facing away. His heart in his throat, Jon reached over the side of the bed, grabbed his pants from the floor, yanked them on, then lay back down with her.

It was a wonder either of them managed to fall back to sleep after that.

* * *

She was gone when he awoke the next morning. Not that he was surprised; she had to be at work at nine and often went for runs before she had to be in the office, so she would have been up early. Still, he couldn’t help but assume she was intending to avoid him, too, after last night.

Sitting up, Jon sighed and dropped his head in his hands. He didn’t blame her. What do you say to your aunt after you’ve fucked her? He would laugh if it weren’t so fucked up and absurd.

And the _really_ fucked up thing was—he’d have sex with her again, if she wanted it.

Jon got out of bed and headed for a shower, then changed his mind. He didn’t have to be at work till late afternoon. A run would do him good, clear his head. Maybe rid him of these lustful thoughts of his aunt.

He stifled a snort. Fat chance of that  _now_.

Once he got changed and laced up his sneakers, Jon went for his usual run around the neighborhood. Then he went even farther, down the busier streets away from all the clapboard houses and their small front yards, toward the retail shops of King’s Landing, and farther still, to a greenway that circled Visenya’s Hill. After he’d run a mile on that, he turned around and headed back, sweat soaking his hair and shirt. He ran slower than his usual pace, still afraid of straining the muscles in his side, even though the doctor had assured him he could exercise as he had before.

As he passed a convenience store on his way back to the house, Jon slowed to a stop and went inside, thinking to purchase an energy drink and protein bar to tide him over till dinner. He caught his breath as he walked up and down the aisles to find his intended items.

On his way to the front, he stopped at the condoms display, and lingered.

Exasperated, Jon swiped at his damp forehead, clearing the sweat from his eyes. He pivoted away, protein bar and energy drink in hand, but before he could talk himself out of it again, he spun back around and snatched a pack of condoms off the display, stalking up to the counter. He quickly paid for his stuff then got the hell out of there.

* * *

The bar had been overstaffed, so Jon was cut early once again. He got home around nine and was surprised, and a little worried, to see Dany wasn’t home yet. Or she’d gone out again after work to avoid him.

He sat at the kitchen counter to wait for her, debating whether to text her but deciding against it. She had a life outside of him. At least, she did before her father had murdered her mom and tried to kill her, too. But he knew she had friends; maybe she was finally getting back into her normal routine from before everything had gone to shit. She didn’t owe him updates on her whereabouts. He wasn’t her boyfriend.

Others take him. He wasn’t her _fucking boyfriend_. He was her nephew. Jon dropped his head into his hands and huffed out a brusque laugh. Strange, then, that he should know what she tasted like, what her face looked like when she came.

Just the memory of it stoked a fire in his belly, spreading through his chest and down to his groin.

The kitchen door swung open, and Jon jumped, though he didn’t dare look at her yet. He could sense her hesitation when she saw him at the counter. After a pause, she quietly shut the door behind her, her keys jangling in her hand. With a dry swallow, Jon lifted his head to look at her.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes skittering away. She hung her car keys on a hook near the door. “Hi.”

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Dany looked everywhere but him, but he saw how pink her face had turned. She wore a simple v-neck t-shirt and skinny jeans under her raincoat, meaning she had come home at some point to change before going out again. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She didn’t look particularly dressed up for anything. So at least she hadn’t been on a date or something. Which was an irrational thought, Jon knew—Dany had been as much of a hermit as he’d been lately. No matter how fucked up things were between them, after what they’d done last night, he didn’t think she was heartless enough to go out with another guy right after fucking him.

Still, he asked as casually as he could, “Where’ve you been? You’re normally home by now.”

“Oh. Yeah. I just went out for dinner.” His stomach dropped. Dany elaborated, oblivious to his dread. “With Missy. I’ve been a shit friend lately, neglecting her. I kept putting her off when she’d ask to hang out.”

Fuck. It was perverse how relieved he was that she’d only been out with Missandei.

“We went to that new place. Hummingbird. Have you been there yet?” Jon shook his head. “It’s neat. A little pretentious. But the food’s good. You should check it out.”

She was rambling, still not meeting his eyes. Jon sighed, laying his palms flat on the counter as if he could physically brace himself for what came next.

“Dany,” he said firmly. He waited for her to finally lift her gaze to his. “Do we—should we talk about last night?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. What’s there to say? It was—” Her blush darkened. “I don’t really know what to say. It’s probably just best to pretend it didn’t happen, right? It was a mistake.”

His stomach was a hive of nerves. He scraped his fingernail over a faint scratch in the marble counter. “Do you want me to move out?” he asked quietly. Her eyes widened in horror.

“What? No!” She unfolded her arms and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t want you to go—unless, do _you_ want to move out?”

“No, but if my being here means things are going to be weird between us.” He rubbed at his jaw. “This is your house. I don’t...I don’t want to put you out or anything. Where you feel like you can’t come home because you can’t even look at me.”

Dany closed her eyes, her face suddenly pale. “ _Gods_. I fucked everything up, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Jon. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why I did that last night.” She inclined her head forward to cover her eyes with her hands. Perplexed, he stared at her.

“Why do you think it’s your fault?”

She dropped her hands to look at him. “I kissed you! I instigated it. I kept coming to you—” She broke off, embarrassed. “I knew it was inappropriate, probably. I just...I enjoy being around you. No one…” She trailed off again, frustratingly. He wanted to press her but bit his tongue. After a moment, she blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry, Jon.”

“Dany. If you don’t think I’m equally at fault for what happened—I mean, I pushed it further.”

“I didn’t stop you,” she argued.

“I didn’t stop you either,” he countered. “I wanted you.”

She flushed at his bold declaration, and he felt a similar heat consume his face. “I…” she wavered, looking away. “I don’t want you to leave, Jon.”

“I’m not,” he said, confused. “I just told you that. I won’t if you don’t think I should.”

Dany shook her head, falling into silence. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke again. “I know. But...I don’t want you to leave—ever. I hate having to get up every morning and go to work, and I hate that you’re gone most nights when I get home. I just want to be here with you, talking to you. Lying in bed with you.” He saw her throat constrict, and she forced a shaky smile. “That’s not normal. I know it’s not. I feel possessive of you and—” She chewed at her lip before saying quietly, “And I want you, too. Or, wanted you.” She blushed and shook her head. “Except, no, I don’t mean past tense like you said. I can’t say it was just a one-time feeling. And I _know_ that’s wrong.”

His heart raced at her soul-baring confession. He hadn’t expected that—not that he knew what he’d expected at all. Was it possible she felt the same way he did? He was momentarily paralyzed as he digested her words, trying to figure out what to say, what to do now.

She looked increasingly horrified. “Shit. I’m fucked up, aren’t I? I shouldn’t have told you that. You’re disgusted with me.” She covered her mouth and started to move past him, but Jon shot up from his seat so fast, the stool went skidding backward.

He stepped in front of her, grabbing her arms to stop her. “Dany, stop, stop, stop,” he pleaded, prying her hand away from her mouth by her wrist. She shook her head, eyes averted, but he just pulled her against him, his hands clasped around her forearms. Then he dipped his head down, nudging her nose with his until she turned her face to his, and he captured her mouth in a kiss.

Dany went stiff against him, so he released her wrists and curled his hands around her neck, tipping her head back as he stroked his tongue into her mouth. _Kiss me back,_ he begged silently, spelling out his plea with his tongue. Uncertainly, she laid her hands on his chest and curled her fingers into his shirt, letting him kiss her, her lips pliable and lax under his eager mouth. Then, just as suddenly, she was kissing him too. She went up on her tiptoes to thrust her tongue into his mouth, a ravenous desperation sharpening her bite. Jon felt the length of her body press along his, the pressure of her breasts on his chest, the taut muscles of her thighs against his.

He let go of her neck and brought his arms around her, dropping his hands to her ass and pulling her into him more firmly. Her moan was a soft breath on his tongue, and at his demanding touch, her kisses turned needy, her teeth biting and cutting into his lips. His cock was hard now, painfully jammed against the waistband of his pants and pinned between their bodies. Without much thought, he reached under her thighs and hoisted her into the air, hooking her legs around his hips. She clung to him, breaking the kiss to catch her breath.

“Jon,” she whispered, his name a question. In answer, he kissed her, turning them around. She let her purse drop to the floor then wrapped her arms around his neck, petting his hair back from his ears and forehead as he carried her blindly to his bedroom.

He only barreled her into the wall a couple of times before he finally found his destination, wedging open his bedroom door with his foot. He let go of her legs, and she loosened her hold on him to slide down his body, touching her feet to the floor. She stepped back to peer at him, dark-eyed and hungry, and he shut the door behind them, ensconcing them in pitch black. Neither moved for a moment.

“Do you want to do this?” he asked, his voice low and husky. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, and he couldn’t see her expression.

After a tense beat, she replied tremulously, “Yes.”

Jon breathed a silent sigh of relief then shuffled sightlessly to his nightstand, where he pulled the pack of condoms from the drawer. “I bought these. Condoms,” he elaborated, realizing she had no idea what he was holding. He was glad she couldn’t see how red he'd gone.

“Oh.” She sounded surprised.

“Just in case.” He made a face, setting the condoms on the nightstand. “Was that presumptuous? It was presumptuous. Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No!” she insisted, moving closer. “No, no—Jon—just—” He felt her hands on his arms, his chest, then she was kissing him again, suddenly and just as desperately as before, as if the awkward interlude had never occurred. He grabbed the collar of her jacket and pushed it down her shoulders, stripping it from her arms. Dany freed him of his shirt next, and he did the same to her, trailing his hands up the curve of her spine until he hit her bra clasp. It took him a second to get it undone, then Dany shrugged out of it, grabbing his face to bring him back to her mouth. They both groaned as her breasts pressed against his bare chest, her nipples pointed little furls of arousal.

Mouth watering, he broke away to kiss down her neck to her breasts, sucking first one nipple then the other between his lips until both were thoroughly wet and rigid. Hands threaded in his hair, she gasped and arched her chest toward him. He dragged his bottom teeth along the sensitive underside of her breast up to her nipple, where he sucked hard enough to make her cry out.

“Jon,” she groaned, pulling on his hair until he lifted his head to hers for another bruising kiss. In their urgency, their teeth clacked together painfully, and they both hissed, soothing the hurt with their tongues instead of pulling away. Her hands fumbled at his zipper, and he reached for her jeans, both pushing and yanking at tight, obstructive denim until they had each other naked save for their underwear.

By the time they were prone on the bed, the underwear was gone, too. Her skin was hot and silky as he slid against her, goosebumps erupting in the wake of his hands on her thighs and stomach. He found her mouth again, coaxing her tongue out so he could catch it with his teeth and suck lightly. She squirmed, retracting her tongue to nip and suck at his bottom lip. They did this give and take, teasing and taunting, driving each other to the edge until they were both panting and damp with sweat.

Jon’s cock was hard against her belly, his balls heavy and painful. He lowered his head to suck at her breasts again and reached a hand between her parted thighs, finding her slippery and swollen, her juices coating his fingers. He groaned deep in his chest. “You’re so wet,” he rasped against her breast, breathing hard as he trailed his fingertips up and down her slit, making her jerk beneath him.

“Jon!” she gasped, straining toward him, but he purposely avoided her clit as he traced her outer lips, then her inner lips, delicately circling her entrance, splitting his fingers to stroke up and down her folds. Dany clawed at his shoulders. “ _Please_.”

Bringing his face to hers, he slowly eased a finger inside her. She sucked in a breath just as he sighed, the air hot and steamy between them—as hot and steamy as her cunt. He leisurely fucked her with his finger, in and out. Her walls clutched at his digit, rippling around him, pulling him deeper. He added another finger, and she let out a throaty moan.

“You feel really good,” he whispered, already breathing hard, anticipating sinking his cock into her next. She knocked her nose against his, head thrashing side to side as she bumped her hips up into his in a search for relief. Finally, he dragged his drenched fingers out and up to her clit. She squealed when he touched her, thighs clamping shut as he began to rub her swollen, plump nub.

Jon nuzzled his mouth against her ear. “I want you,” he told her, almost delirious with arousal. Dany whimpered, bucking beneath him as he stroked her clit, fingers moving faster. “I want to fuck you so badly. I want to make you come on my cock, and then I want to lick you clean until you come again on my tongue.”

Her eyes snapped open, and even in the dark he could see in them the fire his words stoked. His fingers were too wet, finding less friction, and he pushed down on her clitoris harder until she keened, going taut and rigid against him. “Yes!” she moaned, the sound hitching in a gasp as she came. He didn’t let up until she stopped trembling, then he sat up and reached over for the condoms, hands shaking and slick as he struggled to tear the package open.

She watched him, boneless, while he rolled the condom onto his cock, only reaching for him when he moved in between her legs. His thighs opened hers, and he pushed her knees up as he settled on top of her, catching her mouth in a kiss. He felt her sharp inhale when he pushed into her, her body yielding easily as he thrust shallowly, giving her only a couple inches at a time until his cock was buried to the hilt.

 _Home_ , he realized—sliding into her felt like coming home. Her, being with her, wherever that was, that was home.

The realization was so overwhelming, so powerful, he couldn’t move right away. How could he feel so lost—and yet, exactly where he was meant to be?

Gathering himself, he pulled out then surged into her again, gradually building to a punishing pace. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, holding him close, and she dug her heels into his ass as he fucked her. The slick, heady sound of their skin colliding filled the room, echoed by their grunts. He slipped a hand in the slim gap between their bodies to touch her clit, and her cunt tightened around him as he began to stroke her lightly, taking her back to the same precipice as before.

It was difficult to maintain his rhythm and touch her at the same time, but thankfully it didn’t take her long to reach that peak again. “Jon!” she gasped, her cunt cinching impossibly tighter around his cock. He groaned and pulled his hand away to balance himself, then he was fucking her hard and fast through the pulsing waves of her orgasm until he was coming too, emptying himself into the condom.

Out of breath, he collapsed on top of her, relishing the slow-rolling tide of his release over him. Slowly, he came back to himself and the sensation of her running her fingers through his damp hair. When he lifted his head from her chest, she met his gaze and smiled so shyly at him, he felt it down in his gut.

Reaching between them, he gripped the base of the condom and pulled out of her. “Where are you going?” she asked with mild alarm, watching him remove the condom to trash it.

Jon shook his head, getting comfortable between her legs. “Nowhere,” he promised as he brought his mouth to her cunt. “I’m not done with you yet.”

* * *

When Jon awoke, he immediately looked for Dany, already knowing she was gone from his bed. Disoriented, he sat up, panic curdling in his stomach, but just as he was about to fling the sheets aside, his door opened.

Dressed in his t-shirt from the night before, Dany slipped into his room. She paused at the sight of him awake, then quietly closed the door. “Just called into work,” she whispered, waving the phone in her hand at him.

Even as he relaxed, he frowned. “For what?” he asked, his voice froggy with sleep.

She looked sheepish as she climbed back into his bed. “Didn’t feel like going in today, so I told them I was sick.” She set her phone on his nightstand, lying down beside him.

“Oh.” Jon lay down, too, and Dany curled into his side, skimming her hand over his bare belly. He tensed and grabbed her hand to still it, but turned his face into hers, slotting their lips together. Her tongue moved into his mouth, and he kissed her till the staleness of morning breath dissipated, and his cock was hard and heavy.

Jon turned on his side to face her, and she hiked her thigh over his waist to wriggle closer. He grabbed his dick and angled it between her thighs, hissing as he slid directly against her hot cunt. No panties. He grabbed her hip and lazily thrust against her, his cock sliding in between her wet folds, covering his shaft in her slickness. Dany groaned into his mouth and jerked her hips against his, rubbing herself along the length of him, getting louder as she ground her clit against the base of his cock.

Pulling her shirt up in the front, Jon bared her breasts and stroked the backs of his fingers over her nipples, pinching them between his knuckles. Dany bit at his bottom lip and rutted against his cock more desperately, panting into his mouth.

“Gonna come,” she whispered. He reached around to grab her ass and assist her in getting herself off. Their breaths were hot and fast, neither moving to do anything else but thrust against each other until she gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, head rolling back as her cunt fluttered against his cock. Her leg tightened around his hip, her heel digging into the back of his thigh.

She was still in the throes of her orgasm when Jon pushed her thigh back down, closing her legs around his cock. It was too much effort to roll over and grab a condom, so he thrust into her hard, sliding his cock in the tight grip of her wet cunt and slick thighs until he came, spurting in the dark, damp crevice created by her legs. Sighing, Dany ground against his dick, his cum soaking both of them.

“Let me get you a towel,” he offered after a moment to collect himself. She nodded sleepily, and he got up to head to the bathroom, his cock still jutting out in front of him, messy with their cum. In the bathroom he rinsed himself off at the sink then took a dampened towel back to Dany, who wiped his cum from between her legs. While she did so, he grabbed his phone and shot off a text to his manager to let him know he was sick and couldn’t cover his shift that night. Then he lay down and rolled to face Dany, pulling her into his arms.

* * *

With a gasp, he pushed into her and went still, resting his face on her breast. She hugged him close, her cunt clutching at his cock as he came. He grunted and rolled his hips again, sliding into her as deep as he could until he was spent. Dany ran her hand through his hair, from the nape of his neck to the crown of his skull, ruffling his hair damp with sweat. He lifted his head to look at her, and she met his gaze.

Jon leaned down to brush a kiss to her lips, before he pulled out of her and rolled to his side. Carefully removing the condom, he leaned over the side of the bed to trash it in his waste bin, which was already overflowing with used condoms and discarded wrappers and emptied takeout containers. They’d been fucking nearly nonstop for two days now, and they’d barely left his room other than to hastily answer the door for delivery or use the bathroom and shower.

It was the weekend, so Dany had only missed work on Friday, but the weekends were Jon’s most lucrative shifts. He’d already apologized to Pyp, who’d texted him bitching about having to work a double just to cover his absence. He knew he was going to regret his impulsiveness to call out sick two days in a row, but at the moment he didn’t care.

He just couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed at the moment. Not with her in it with him.

Who knew what would change the moment they left their temporary cocoon? He was afraid to find out.

When he stretched out on his back, Dany curled up at his side, resting her head on his chest, in the crook between his shoulder and neck. It was cruel how well she fit against him, how right their bodies felt together. At the thought, Jon wrapped his arm around her to hug her closer. She let out a contented sigh and lay her hand on his stomach. After a moment, she pushed away from him slightly, trailing her hand to the scar on his oblique. It was an angry pink of mottled skin, still too new to have faded to scar-tissue white just yet. Gingerly, she touched her fingertips to it and stroked the length of it carefully, reverently. Then she lifted her head to look him in the face.

“Does that feel weird?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Don’t know. Can’t really feel anything when you touch it directly.”

Her fingers grazed higher up his side, poking at his ribs. “What about now?” she asked with a laugh as he squirmed away, snatching up her hand to stop her.

He tried, and failed, to give her a stern look of warning. Keeping her hand in his, he turned onto his side to face her. “I don’t think you want to start that with me. I’ve been told I am an expert tickler.”

“Maybe,” she mused, smiling wickedly at him. “But you have one glaring weak spot that I just happen to know will bring you to your knees.” He followed her gaze downward, realizing too late her target when she grasped his flaccid cock in her hand.

He hissed, prying her hand off him. “ _Don’t don’t don’t,_ ” he pleaded, pinning her hand behind her back so she wouldn’t be able to reach for him again. He chuckled painfully. “Seven hells, give me a minute.”

Dany laughed and snuggled closer to him. “Coward.” But she smiled at him again, and he returned it. Gradually, however, her smile faded. In the violet depths of her eyes, he saw fear and awe and doubt and shame. He swallowed.

“Jon,” she whispered. He thought she might push him away, that maybe she’d finally come to her senses, realized with horror what they’d truly done. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, resting his forehead on hers. When she tugged against his grip, he let her hand go, and she brought it up to his face. As if she were petting a cat, she combed her fingers through his beard until he shut his eyes.

“Do we go back to the way things were before? Pretend this never happened? Or...continue on in secret until...someone rats us out, or you meet another girl? Someone you’re not related to.”

He opened his eyes. “You’ll meet someone first.” Even saying it out loud made his stomach cramp with displeasure and jealousy. Over a fucking hypothetical.

She snorted. “Unlikely. You’re a real-life superhero who eats good pussy. You’ve ruined me for everyone else,” she teased.

He would have laughed, but the direction of their conversation had left him feeling raw, like an exposed nerve. He frowned. “Don’t. Don’t idolize me like that.”

She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not a fucking superhero. I know you think I saved you, but I got shot, Dany. _You_ saved you.”

“Which wouldn’t have been possible if _you_ hadn’t stopped him first,” she argued, her brow knotting together. He sighed.

“I know. It’s just, when you say that—” He swallowed. “I’m afraid you don’t see _me_. I’m afraid you see that night.”

Her expression shuttered suddenly. “Well, I hadn’t all weekend, but now I do,” she said sourly, sitting up. Jon’s stomach dropped, and he sat up with her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Most days I think about that night, Jon. It’s kind of impossible not to. If I find some good in what happened, why is that bad?”

“It’s not,” he said, frustrated. “I just...I understand how trauma works. When two people go through something like we did, it’s...it’s binding. It can warp your feelings. It can intensify otherwise normal feelings.”

After jerking her sleep shirt on over her head, she scowled at him over her shoulder. “Is that what you think? The bond between us is false?”

“No. _No_. I don’t think that.” Agitated, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I know what I feel—however fucked up it may be. But if you only see me as that guy who saved your life...you’re going to be disappointed when that shine wears away.”

At his bitter words, her face softened, and she twisted on the bed to face him. “ _Jon_.” She gave him a wry look. “I’ve lived with you for eight months now. Believe me, the shine is gone. And guess what? I still like what I see.”

At her declaration, his face went hot with juvenile pleasure, but now Dany looked uncertain. Self-consciously, she crossed her arms over her chest. “But maybe you just see me as some...helpless victim. Maybe you feel responsible for me. Like you have to watch over me. Take care of me.”

He stared incredulously at her. “What? So you think I’ve just—what, pity fucked you for two days straight now?”

Flushing, she dropped her gaze. “Well. I wouldn’t blame you. I threw myself at you. And I kept coming to your bed. I can only imagine what you think of me.”

His cheeks turned ruddy with anger. “I think I have a bit more self-control to not fuck my _aunt_ just because I feel sorry for her.” She flinched, still not looking at him. A creeping paranoia took over. “Are you feeling sorry for yourself?”

That got her attention. “What?”

His throat went tight. “Did you come to me for a pity fuck?”

Her eyes bulged. “Are you fucking serious? Does anyone actually _want_ a pity fuck?”

“You said you were looking for a distraction,” he reminded her. She narrowed her eyes at him, a storm passing over her face.

“If that were the case, I would have just fucked Daario. Hooking up with you doesn’t exactly simplify things, you know,” she snapped.

Jon deflated, scrubbing his hands down his face. “I know, _I know_ —sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. I didn’t mean to pick a fight. I’m just...”

When he trailed off, Dany finished his thought for him. “Scared?”

He dropped his hands into his lap with a gusty sigh. “Yeah.”

“Me too,” she whispered, scooting closer. She reached out for his hand, and he took it, rubbing his thumb over her fingers. “I’ve never felt this way before, Jon.” He lifted his eyes to hers, and she hesitated before continuing, “I love you, Jon.” His heart stopped, but she chuffed, shaking her head. “I’ve never said that to a guy before. And somehow it still doesn’t seem like enough. Of course I love you. You’re my family.” She squeezed his hand, holding his gaze. Still, she looked positively terrified. “What I mean is...I’m _in love_ with you.”

Jon held his breath until his lungs ached, then blew it out, dropping his forehead to their joined hands. Those five words were both the best and worst thing anyone had ever said to him.

He licked his dry lips. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

Her fingers tightened around his. It felt like an unintentional reflex. When she spoke, her voice sounded high and tight. “I don’t know. That depends on you. I’ve laid myself bare here, and I keep laying myself bare, but you—“

He lifted his head to cut her off. “Dany. I’m in love with you, too.”

She went quiet, holding her wide eyes on him. Despite her previous reassurance, his pulse raced at his admission. He hadn’t said those words to anyone since Ygritte. And right now what he’d felt for his ex-girlfriend paled in comparison to what he felt for Dany. It was big and scary and completely inconvenient.

She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip before she finally responded. “Then, yes, it appears your previous assessment is correct.”

He cracked a smile, a painful one, and she returned it with a small one of her own, eyes turning glossy. Tugging on her hand, he pulled her into his arms and lay down with her, her head tucked squarely under his jaw. They didn’t speak for a while, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his bare chest as he rubbed his hands up and down her back over her t-shirt.

After some time had passed, Dany lifted her head to look at him. “We could go to Essos,” she suggested. Her expression had changed to one of determination. 

He frowned, not following her. “What?”

“Essos. No one would look twice at us there.”

His stomach climbed into his throat. “Dany,” he started warily, but she continued, growing increasingly excited at the prospect.

“Think about it. We could start over there. Start fresh. And we could be together. No one knows us there. In some places, it’s not weird at all. Really, what’s keeping us here? We don’t have jobs either of us particularly cares about. We’ve got money. It’d be the perfect time to go.”

When she looked at him expectantly, he winced. “I can’t just leave my mom,” he said softly. Dany’s face fell, and it killed him to see her that crestfallen. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “No, of course. I just—I forgot for a moment.”

Because she didn’t have anyone left here like he did, no one worth staying for. Only him.

“It was just an idea,” she added, forcing a smile. “A longshot.”

She didn’t quite meet his eyes after that. Every second that passed, his stomach sank further, a sickly panic clawing up into his chest. He felt like something was slipping through his fingers—this moment, their future, her.

“I don’t have to stay forever,” he blurted. “Here, I mean. In Westeros. Just long enough that I know my mom’s back on her feet again and can be on her own without me. Then...maybe we can go. If you still want to.”

Her eyes brightened slightly, still muted with uncertainty. “Yeah?”

Swallowing against the fear and doubt, he nodded. He wanted her. He wanted all of it, with her, wherever that was.

She smiled then, and relief flooded him at the sight. “I can wait, then. We’ve got time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know, apparently my go-to ending for sticky situations is just "send them to Essos!" Don't worry though, I won't be continuing this only to separate them for 14 years before finally getting them to Essos. You can just assume everything goes according to plan this time. Unless you like pain, like me, then feel free to imagine the angstiest conclusion possible.


End file.
